Category Archives for "Running"

2 Arkansas Traveller 100: Bronco Billy vs. PoDog

Two “L’s” is appropriate for the spelling. More than it appears. This race turned out to be quite a tight race with a local Arkansas dude, PoDog (and, his first 100 miler no less). Not only was it a close race, the conditions were extremely tough. As Chrissy Ferguson (one of the Race Directors) laid claim, this was the toughest conditions ever at Traveller. 15 degrees above normal, high humidity, only a 47% finishing rate. There was a lot of carnage.

Mark Lantz (who I raced with at Waldo 100k in August) and I both thought it was tougher heat than Western States. At States it’s hot and humid, but the heat is still a dry heat. The Arkansas River Valley is dripping moist. I’ve never been so wet during a race. It literally looked like I jumped in a lake, stepped out, and stayed that wet for the entire race. Shorts clinging to my legs, dripping wet. Jungle humid. I must add, west central Arkansas in October is normally in the 70s and 50% humidity. However, at the peak on race day, it was 89 degrees and 90% humidity. Dripping wet.

I’m back up in Northern Arkansas today as I write, up in the Ozark hills, out of the river valley and it’s much cooler. As I sit in Roscoe’s Internet Cafe in Eureka Springs, enjoying a latte with my foot propped up, listening to the rain come down from the thunderstorm that just blew in. I’m enjoying the fall smells and cool breeze blowing in the tall oaks outside that are just hinting of their fall colors.

As I just finish explaining to a couple of locals why I have a limp and why my feet look like complete crap, I can’t help but reflect on my own personal carnage. I had to work hard for this win. I was dripping wet all day from the humidity. My shoes were squishy with sweat most of the day. My feet are the worst they’ve ever been after a race.

Here’s a short list of my carnage…gigantic blisters on both balls of my feet (deep layered), more on my toes, between my toes, stone bruise on the ball of my right foot, poison ivy, chigger bites, and an extremely bruised left big toe from multiple head-on kicks to rocks (no loose ones here, they’re all attached securely to the earth). Amazingly, my feet look worse than after Hardrock—ironic. Again, this race is more than it appears.

The Race
We started out this race at 6am with headlamps shining. I ran with Mark Lantz for the first few miles of road, then the gravel road up to Brown’s Creek Aid Station. Mark and I were in the top 5 coming out of Brown’s Creek. We continued the gravel road climb up to Flatside Pinnacle Aid and the beginning of the Ouachita (pronounced Wah-chuh-tah) Trail section, where we’d follow for the next 8 miles until the first crew and drop bag station at Lake Sylvia (mile 16).

It was so humid that I couldn’t keep my prescription Rudy Project glasses from fogging up. I had wiped them several times with an anti-fog cloth, but the Arkansas humidity won out. I took them off and never wore them again for the remainder of the race. Thank the Lord my prescription is not super strong. I was a little worried about night time, but figured the course’s majority fire road terrain would be manageable without the glasses. Again, this was in the first hour of the race and barely light—already steamy humid.

I was in 4th when I started the Ouachita Trail and quickly passed a few guys on the rocky trail and was running with the top 2 guys. John Muir (7th from last year and ended up in 3rd this year) and another guy (I didn’t catch his name). This section of trail was awesome—technical, rocky, rolling. Lots of leaves on the trail. It was killer fun. We arrived Brown’s Creek together and I left first with the other two guys right behind me. I led through this whole section and quickly realized why leading in the woods here is not necessarily a cool thing—orb spiders.

These little suckers, or rather, big suckers are EVERYWHERE. Gigantic, non-poisonous brightly colored spiders that make their web across the trail right at face height. Usually you can catch a glimpse of them a split second before you hit their web and can duck and only get part of the web in your face. But, if you don’t, well—BAM! Face-full of sticky web and sometimes the spider too. I had spider web on me on and off most of the day…hanging from my beard, ears, arms, tangled in my hand. You get used to it.

I arrived Lake Sylvia in the lead with everyone right behind me. My dad got me in and out with some ice in one bottle, downed a Turkey slider (the Roch Horton special) and started the run up the gravel road to Pumpkin Patch. I decided with the heat, that I would just run steady until at least half way, probably until the turnaround at 58. I didn’t worry about what place I was in.

I was soon up to Pumpkin Patch, then Electronic Tower and soon the rocky decent into Rocky Gap (mile 29). The rocky sections of this course are REALLY rocky. It reminded me of Wasatch rocky without loose rocks and without the steep factor. All the rocks are solid in the ground, so there is no forgiveness. This is definitely what wreaked havoc on my sweat-drenched feet throughout the race. And, the section where I kicked a rock with my left big toe and jammed my toenail HARD (my big toe is gnarly looking and I won’t be able to get into shoes for a while). The toenail is moving around—goes with the territory I suppose.

I arrived Lake Winona Aid Station (mile 32) in 4th place and was only 4 minutes behind the leader. Another turkey slider and gel and water refills and I was on my way. I had finally dialed in my S cap intake by Winona. I had systematically increased my intake per hour until I had no more cramps or squirrelly stomach. It ended up being a pill every 20 minutes in the heat of the day…ALOT. I was feeling better after that and somewhere between Pig Trail Aid station and Club Flamingo (early 40s) I moved into 3rd place.

Video from Lake Winona Aid Station, mile 32. Theme? Hot.

I got up and over Smith Mountain and down to Chicken Gap and was feeling pretty good. I had become accustomed to drenched clothes and the humidity (well, at least as much a humanly possible…maybe it was just mental numbness).

I arrived Power Line Aid and saw Tom Brennan (last year’s winner) standing there with his shoes off, apparently he had dropped (he’d been complaining earlier of an ankle tendon bothering coming into the race). This put me in 2nd and my Dad said the leader had just left a few minutes in front of me. Enter PoDog.

I met PoDog earlier in the day as he was hammering up a hill and we ran together for a bit. He came up even with me and exclaimed, “Hi! I’m PoDog! How ya doin’?” Super friendly, upbeat dude and had good uphill running speed. I was in a bit of a low spot at the time (before I dialed in my S cap intake) and probably mumbled something like “I’m Jeff, it’s hot.” or something similar.

So, now I’m back on PoDog’s tail, he’s with his pacer at about mile 50, a couple of miles before we arrived at Chili Pepper. He saw me and was out of the station quickly. I said some friendly hellos to the volunteers and had a quick chat with Paul Schoenlaub (from St. Joseph, MO), whom I had met at Wasatch in 2004 when he had finished up the Grand Slam. He’s a super nice guy and was good to see someone familiar. Some orange wedges, ice in the water bottles and I was back after PoDog. I had a stray dog to catch.

I accessed my current condition. I felt good but needed to be smart and not blow the advantage I had. So, I decided to bide my time before I made a move and wait until after the turnaround, before dark. I just kept PoDog in sight and conserved. At the turnaround, PoDog was leaving when I was arriving. So, I did the usual aid station refill, turned around, and headed out for the 42 remaining miles.

When I caught sight of PoDog again, I noticed he was walking as soon as it got steep on the road, so, I decided it was time to make a move. Right before mile marker 60, we went into a rolling uphill section and PoDog was hiking. I ran the hill, passed him and ran the remainder of the hills coming up to gap him. He was soon out of sight and I settled back into a run-hike combo on the climb back to Chili Pepper and Power Line.

After Chili Pepper, I was running and hiking on and off transitions when a runner on his way out passed by and reported, “he’s 100 yards back!” That rascally PoDog again. That was it—time to put the hammer down. I ran the remainder of the climb up to Power Line, weighed in, downed a turkey slider, got my lights and jammed out of there. Not very far out of Power Line you enter the bushwhacking section over Smith Mountain. It’s basically an old overgrown ATV trail that they weed-wack down for the race. Rocky, uneven footing and rolling topography on a ridge line.

My iPod shuffle kicked out a Rage Against the Machine song, appropriately named “Freedom”, I hit repeat 7 times to keep pushing the pace hard over Smith Mountain. I was meeting back of the packers on their way out and they were shouting encouragement, it was giving me juice, and I was feeling strong—the worst of the heat breaking with the setting sun. With the light fading, I wanted to get over Smith Mountain and back on the gravel Fire Road past Smith Mountain Aid Station before I had to turn on my lights.

I made it to Smith Mountain station (mile 73) before dark, asked for soup, they scrambled and I quickly realized they had nothing really ready. I quickly downed a half banana, said thanks, and grabbed my bottles with ice and jammed outta there.

I flipped on my lights on the way to Club Flamingo. I periodically turned my lights off to see it PoDog was close—nothing. Just darkness. Good. But, not out of the woods yet (literally). This head game of light checking continued for the remainder of the race. Well, at least until the last aid station. No one at any station could tell me how far back PoDog was at the previous station. So, I assumed he was close and ran scared.

I was soon to Pig Trail at 79 miles, in and out, and onto the last crew drop. I cruised down the gravel road to Lake Winona at mile 84. This is where I saw my Dad for the last time before the finish. He asked me how I was doing, I said “tired and hot” or something complaining-like. I stretched a bit while they filled my bottles with ice and water, got my last supply of gel and asked him how far back PoDog was at Power Line (mile 68). He said 3 minutes. Crap, dude. I told him I pushed hard over Smith Mountain so hopefully I put some more cushion on him. No way to know for sure. See ya at the finish Pops.

Crew Side Note: Okay, I have to tell a quick story about my Dad. Mike Browning is a born salesman, works in sales, and has never-NEVER met a stranger. My friend, Steve, who was cruising around during the race said he was “at first” worried my Dad would be alone. He quickly realized that my Dad knew EVERYONE at the aid station within 30 seconds of stepping out of his car. I can hear him now in his Missourah drawl…”Hi, Mike Browning…Hi, Mike Browning” extending his hand for a firm handshake, then a proud proclamation that “his boy is Jeff Browning” or something similar. Good ol’ Mike.

He’s good at being there for moral support and competition analysis. I had given him instruction to get my drop bag, fill bottles with cold water and have my waist pack swap ready, and make me eat a turkey slider. He did all this to the “T”—perfect.

However, I was expecting him (my fault, as I did not specify and will next time) to take EVERYTHING out of my drop bag, lay it out, and have it ready for me to choose through the stuff quickly. Power Line especially comes to mind. I come in, PoDog 3 minutes back, and he would hand me my drop bag, zipped up. Here ya go. I’d have to unzip it, rummage through it to get what I needed, not very efficient. Again, NOT HIS FAULT AT ALL, just comical…he did EXACTLY what I asked. I just didn’t ask enough. He’s a great crew chief. Thanks Dad, you da man.

Back to the race…

I dropped down the gravel road hill to the spillway concrete crossing and soon was hiking the steep gravel road climb that starts the uphill to Rocky Gap. I hiked hard and ran quite a bit on the gnarly, rocky terrain up to Rocky Gap. By this time, the heat and constant similar grade of this course was grinding on my quads. They were pretty sore down deep. Can’t slow down now. And, soon was at Rocky Gap, mile 87—less than a half-marathon to go—mentally, a nice fact.

In and out of Rocky Gap, lots of running on the rolling, mellow climb up to Electronic Tower Aid at 92 miles. Coming up the last climb, after Electronic Tower aid station, the course flattens out and does a large U turn on a gravel road before heading into Pumpkin Patch aid station. I turned off my lights and stared into the darkness toward the course section I’d come up, straining in the dark to see a shimmer of light—nothing. Good. I was inside of 7 miles from the finish and figured I could just cruise it in from there without too much to worry about. Steady flow, Bronco, steady flow.

I quickly caught a glimpse of the orange glowing jack-o-lanterns that line the road leading you into Pumpkin Patch aid station—the last aid station. Mile 94.2—5.8 miles to go—less than a 10k.

I headed out of of Pumpkin Patch for the last section and really started to notice how much I hurt, especially my feet. I had some serious blisters and my quads were screaming from using the same muscle group all day. But, pain aside, I was pumped.

However, I was worried upfront, as this course doesn’t really play to my strengths as a mountain runner. I’m better at very technical, very steep courses. This was a runners course, lots of fire roads, mellow grades. Those things aside, I really wanted to come here and pull out a win. It had happened. I had run a smart race by laying back early in the peak of the heat. Pushed on the technical sections. That’s what a hundred is about, controlled effort, knowing your strengths AND weaknesses. The old hundred saying—race doesn’t start until 60 is so true.

I hit the paved road for the last half mile to the finish and was hootin’ and hollerin’ and yee-hawin’ and came across the line in 18:21:50! A satisfying ending to a hard, hot, humid day.

Postscript
I’m finishing up this post on Thursday and I still can’t get normal shoes on, not even flip-flops. I had to go buy the slip-on Nike sandals that have the big velcro flap over the top. My left big toe and toenail is still super swollen, I just was able to put weight on the balls of my feet Wednesday. My feet remind me of the Patagonia ad a few years ago of Betsy Nye’s feet after Wasatch, all duct taped up. I should be so proud—Betsy’s league. Sweet.

A HUGE thanks to Steve and Natalie McBee (whom I met briefly at Hardrock), and were kind enough to open up their home in Fayetteville for me to crash before and after the race. Almost a whole week afterward while I checked out NW Arkansas. They’re awesome.

I also have to give my love to my family. Jennifer stayed up taking progress reports from my dad via cell phone and posting it. Benjamin (and Annie) helped me fill gel flasks before I left. Thanks to my Dad, Mike, for crewing and making me eat turkey sliders, even when I didn’t want them and getting me in and out quickly and back on course.

I’d also like to thanks Mark DeJohn, who kept me running healthy all season after a slow spring training start. Active Release Technique is AWESOME. I highly recommend it. Check him out at www.activebend.com.

Thanks to my sponsors Patagonia, Clif, Black Diamond and Footzone of Bend. They keep me gear-geeked out, Bronco Billy style. With 6 ultras this season, including two 100s, I’m ready for 6 weeks off.

Giddyup, y’all.

0 The Arkansas Traveller 100: A Semi-Live Webcast

Mile 16. Jeff’s Dad called this morning at 6:54am (!) with the first official race update. (Please don’t judge me harshly for my 9:30am post.) Jeff was running in first place at mile 16.7, though he was just two minutes ahead of the second place runner. Go Bronco Billy!

Mile 32. He’s still running strong, now in fourth (there are just four minutes between first place and fourth). Ouachita National Forest Weather Report: 82°F and mostly cloudy with 70% humidity (9:30am PST).

Mile 67. Jeff’s leading again! His Dad (Mike) said he looked strong, and was in a hurry to get going again as the second guy was just 2-3 minutes back. Mike will see him again at Mile 83. Weather Report: 87°F and partly cloudy. Run, Jeff, run!

Mile 83. Just received another call from Mike at 8pm. At mile 83.9, Jeff is still in the lead (ahead now by about 13 minutes). Mike won’t see him again until the finish line. Godspeed, Jeff.

Mile 100. He won!!! I just spoke to one very happy and incredibly tired running man. He said the heat was crazy (he said this at least a dozen times, so it must be true) and that the course was difficult (rocky). He finished with a respectable time of 18 hours and 21 minutes. And we are so proud. We love you, Daddy!

0 Arkansas 100: Packing & Travel

I’m sitting in Redmond Airport preparing to board my flight to Salt Lake, then a connection to Fayetteville, Arkansas today. Inside of 48 hours until race time.

Stayed up late last night packing (2am). Now that Benjamin is 5, he’s becoming quite a little helper. He was a huge help last night helping me with drop bag prep. He filled almost half of my 12 gel flasks by squeezing individual packets into the flasks, then topping off with water…I think he squeezed 30+ packets into flasks. We had a good assembly line going. He also helped gear up my waist packs too. Annie squeezed a couple of gel flasks, but quickly lost interest by throwing a tantrum when I wouldn’t let her squeeze the caffeine-laced gel into her mouth—2 year old and caffeine gel at 8 o’clock at night—uh, nope.

It’s cold today. Temperature as I’m leaving Bend is in the 40s, cold and rainy. In contrast, current conditions in Arkansas today is 90 and humid. Dang, talk about opposites. Good news though, the thunderstorms that were originally in the forecast for Saturday during the race have been pushed to Sunday. It’s gonna be hot and humid—upper 80s, 50-80% humidity. My hydration plan is going to have to change a bit. That’s okay, I usually do really well in the heat.

0 McKenzie River 50k Invitational

Photos by Tom Riley

Well, I have to say I was stoked to run this course, as it’s basically in our backyard (just over Santiam Pass) and I had only mountain biked the McKenzie River Trail a few years back.

However, I only ran 5 times in the 3 weeks since Waldo 100k, as I had some knee pain that I had to let chill before I could start training again, then the Monday before the race I got the flu…the hits keep coming sometimes.

So, I went into this with NO expectations, just to run hard for as long as I could, then clump through to the finish, with the idea it would be an excellent trainer for Arkansas Traveler 100 Miler coming up in 4 weeks. Plus, it was a good excuse to come over and camp in the tent trailer with my buddy Tyson, who crewed for me (minimum aid was offered).

So, 18 of us showed up for the Sunday morning start. I went out with Sean Meissner and Jeff Riley and was feeling pretty good through the technical sections about mid-race. But, then my legs came off at about 19 (what? you mean 5 training runs in 3 weeks aren’t enough?). Anyway, I just enjoyed the lack of stride length and chalked it up to good 100 mile training, as that feeling always hits you in a hundred. I started feeling better, leg-wise about 3 miles from t he finish and picked it up. I ran a 4:18.

I would love to come back to this course with ready legs, it’s fast and fun…the scenery is awesome, with lava flow sections, waterfalls, blue-green clear pools and tons of trees and shade. It was awesome. A good post-race pizza shindig and a good soak in McKenzie River’s ice cold water ended a great day. Phil Vaughn puts on a stellar event. Thanks, Phil and all the volunteers.

0 Hardrock Hundred: High Elevation Never-Never Land

Well, this was the big daddy of all 100 milers—the Hardrock Hundred. It starts and finishes in Silverton, Colorado. 33,000 feet of climbing and descending, average elevation 11,100 feet, five 13,000+ ft. passes, summit 14,048 ft Handies Peak—one big 100 mile loop through the San Juan Mountains. As the race manual reads: This is NOT a beginner race! Uh, yeah. It definitely lives up to it’s name. It was the hardest thing I’ve ever done—hands down. I have to say I was humbled. Even though it was my 5th hundred, it felt like my first again. Killer.

I went in as prepared as I could be, having never seen the course and given I couldn’t come out early or train on the course (phew, I wish I could have in hindsight). For the month leading up to the race, I rented my buddy Steve’s Altitude Tent and slept in it at the foot of our bed on the floor. My son, Benjamin, coined it “the alien pod”— dialed in to 9500 feet. This helped, but going early is obviously the best way to prepare, especially the experience of getting on the course.

Pre Race
I flew into Salt Lake City to ride down with my friends Roch and Catherine Horton. They picked me up in their old Landcruiser and we headed for their friend’s house in Grand Junction, our destination for Wednesday night. It was blazing hot on our midday drive with no air conditioning (well, it has it, we just didn’t use it). Roch’s philosophy that “everyone should adapt to their surroundings” left me with a soaked backside and drinking like a fish across the desert of eastern Utah.

To top it off, Roch told me of an oasis in the little dusty desert town of Green River—a gay dude from Salt Lake had moved to Green River and opened up an ice cream shop and it was “the place” to stop in Green River, he was just there a few weeks ago. Complete with an old timey juke box with Johnny Cash playing on old records…the real deal. I was dreaming of this oasis for 40 miles, drenched in sweat as we pulled into the deserted dusty town on I-70. We rounded the corner to the shop and BAM! Closed. Out of business! Suddenly the shimmering oasis faded to the reality of 100+ degrees as we trudged on to Grand Junction. I guess Green River IS a dusty “old” town after all.

We arrived in Grand Junction to cloudy skies and hot weather. After a meal at a Mexican Restaurant, a little practice session on guitar and Roch on the banjo (more on this later), we retired early at their friends house (who happened to be out of town).

The next morning we headed out early for the 2 1/2 hour drive south to Silverton to race headquarters for check-in. We had a new passenger, one of Roch’s friend who came in to pace him from Sand Diego, Jim. He’d flown in the night before, late. We had a good ride down and stopped off at a Western Store in Montrose to pick me a good cowboy hat out, as I forgot mine (come to find out later, Benjamin had hidden it under our bed), and as you’ll see, I’ll be needin’ that little hat (this ties into the guitar and banjo).

As we approached the San Juan Mountains looming to the south, I first noticed how big they were. It had been a few years since I’ve been to them, back in the 90s when Jennifer and I lived in Colorado. Also, there were some serious looking clouds on the mountains. The forecast was for isolated thunderstorms, and anyone who has any experience with the Rockies, that means crazy afternoon weather with lightening. Not a good recipe if you’re running above tree line.

We arrived at Silverton High School gymnasium just in time, 10:52am. Cut-off time for check-in is 11am. If you don’t check in by 11, they give your slot to the one of many folks that come to the race from the waiting list. Yes, people actually come just in the hopes of nabbing a slot right before the race. And, on race morning, a guy got in 25 minutes before the start! We checked in just in time and caught up to a few friends and hung out for a bit. I set up a tent in the backyard of a rental house that Roch was staying at. They were sharing a house with Betsy Nye and Paul Sweeney and friends and family. After a community dinner that evening, I retired to my tent out back. It rained off and on all night and I awoke at 4am to clear skies overhead and a large cloud bank sitting on the north of town like a wall.

Hardrock Begins
It was just getting light out when we all walked out of the high school gym and out onto the gravel street filled with mud puddles to line up for the 6am start. We took off and made our way through the town of Silverton to the edge of town and up onto a double track trail and into the woods.

I was running in fourth place behind Scott Jurek, Karl Meltzer, and Mark Hartell. After the first creek crossing (~mile 3), we jumped on a 4wd road that we would climb to above treeline. About half way up the road, Ricky Denesik, who won the race back in ’98, caught and passed me, hiking like a fiend and was quickly reeling in Hartell too.

I was in 5th place going into the singletrack above treeline in Little Giant Basin. I heard Jurek give out a hoot and I answered with a “yee-hah” back at him. That’s the thing I like about Scott, he’s always hootin’ and hollerin’ and enjoying himself. He’s a fierce competitor, but humble and good at focusing on the happy place. I could see futher up and Karl was not far back from Scott, with Ricky in 3rd and Mark Hartell in 4th. I topped out Little Giant Pass (13,000 ft) and started to the steep 2700 ft descent in 2.2 miles down to Cunningham Gap. The markers were hard to follow and I soon passed Hartell, as he had lost the flags and as soon as I passed him, he was on my rear. We ran together down to Cunningham, which made me run that first descent a bit too fast. There was a lot of moisture from the rain and as I steep on a double log across the trail, my foot slipped between them and caught my heel and bruised it. This little mishap would prove to bother me the rest of the race on climbs, as my heel jammed the back of my shoes. I also, slipped once and banged my shin. So, I arrived Cunningham aid at mile 9 with a bloody, swollen shin and a bruised heel. Oh, and due to running it a bit too fast, my legs were a little shakey (I like to call it the Elvis leg)…”hold on now, thankyaverymuch!”

Ben Moon and and Jason, my pacer, were there with my drop bag out and ready. I loaded up with more gel and was off. I started up the Green Mountain climb and was already feeling it a bit from the last descent, not a good sign at mile 10. I soon found my rhythm and settled in to powerhiking up the long climb to Stony Pass and then to Maggie Gulch aid station. During this section, I was passed by a couple of people and Ty Draney caught up to me and we ran together through the Pole Creek area and into Pole Creek Aid together. We left together and yo-yo’d through the whole upper area before you drop into the trees coming into Sherman. As we were getting into the trees, a storm blew in and started to hail. Luckily, I was on my way down into Sherman and in the trees. The pea size hail hurt a bit on my head, but I pulled ahead of Ty a bit, trying to get to the aid station quickly. I had some potato soup at the aid, replenished my gel and electrolyte pill supply, put on my arm warmers, gloves, and shell and left Sherman a little chilled. Phill Kiddoo and I left together and hung out for a bit as we ran and chatted. After we got up on the upper road the heads up to Bear Creek Trailhead, Phill pulled ahead. I relaxed and ran my own pace and soon arrived at the trailhead parking lot and say Catherine and Jim. They topped off my water and I hit the singletrack to start the long climb up Handies Peak (14,048 ft). Handies approach is long and I was having a bit of a rough patch as I got above treeline. I was running low on water and soon ran out by the summit.

Hardrock is different than many other races in that you can’t just rely on aid stations. You have to carry more stuff, plus, you have to dip in the snowmelt or fresh springs when they come along, even if you don’t need water at the time. I was learning as I raced and had not learned that little fact yet. So, I passed up many good springs and soon was on the upper flanks of Handies. Ty had caught back up to me and we ran together for a bit, but I ran out of water and he pulled a bit ahead. I kept him in sight and as we summited, I was only 50 yards back.

We started the 1600 ft descent off Handies together and hit the traverse over to American Basin, where I found a good spring coming out of the cliff band. I filled, chugged, filled, chugged and topped off my bottles. Then, with a bit of a sloshy belly, started the climb up to 13,020 ft American Grouse Pass and the 2300 ft rocky descent into Grouse Gulch.

I sat down at Grouse, ate some soup, replenished supplies and heade up the road to Engineers Pass. This is a long, slow section and my stomach was a bit squirrelly. The storm and clouds had passed and the sun came out. I zapped through my water and was out by the upper section of the road. I was pretty slow through here, as I had run out of water twice in 10 miles and had cotton mouth. I started getting passed and soon Paul Sweeney caught up to me. He has won this race once and been 2nd place a couple of times. He’s really good at going out slow and coming on strong at the end. He and I hiked together and talked. Toward the top, one of my Patagonia teammates, Whit Rambach, caught up to us and he had extra water and gave me a 1/4 of a bottle. Thanks, buddy. Whit, Paul and I topped out together at Oh Point and started the cross country drop off to pick up Trail 242 and into Engineer Aid Station. I had to make a pit stop on the way to Engineer and lost contact with Paul and Whit. My stomach was not right after the two waterless sections.

I arrived at Engineer, sat and drank 5 glasses of water and had a soup with crackers. I left there with a full belly and started the descent into Bear Creek Canyon. This canyon is extremely exposed. Most of the way down you’re running on a dynamite blasted shelf that miners created to make the upper mines in the canyon accessible. It’s rocky, loose choss with a huge exposed drop off to your left. I just focused on picking a good line and cruised down. Soon you go over the Hwy 550 Tunnel and down and cross the Uncompahgre River on a foot bridge, then run follow a pipeline road that drops you out on the edge of Ouray (mile 56). I arrived Ouray at around dusk and you have to run through town to the north end where a park is. I arrived the aid at 8:45pm to see Catherine and Jason who would be pacing me the next 16 miels to Telluride.

I got my lights, refills, new socks and soup and headed out with my pacer, Jason. Garrett Graubins had introduced Jason and I via email and he came out from Colorado Springs to pace me to Telluride. It was nice to have company, as I was feeling a bit sleepy as we headed up the Camp Bird Road. Toward the upper part of the road, Krissy Moehl and her pacer, Darcy, passed us like we were standing still, chatting, laughing. When she passed us I knew she was going to win the women’s race. She’s tough and is good at going out easy and bringing it the second half.

We arrived Governor Aid, sat for about 10 minutes and ate soup. I was starting some bad habits by sitting at every aid station. Once I was off my splits, I just started slowing down and sitting. The problem is by doing this, I was losing mental focus and drive. Bad. So, I continued to plug along on my way to the Virginius Pass wall.

We arrived at the start of the Virginius climb and I could see a line of headlamps floating in the dark way above us, and, as Roch had described, the aid station lantern wayyyyy up there. The Virginius Pass approach is a 3 pitch mix of snow and scree on the north facing gully of a knife ridge at 13,100 ft. It’s about a 50 degree grade of class 3 climbing. The first pitch is the longest and was a loose, muddy mix of snow and muddy scree. There are several big boulders to grab hold of on the climb. Soon we were through the first pitch then the second, which was more of the same and shorter. Finally we reached the last pitch, and there were several people on the straight ahead route where the fixed rope is. Roch had mentioned a single switchback route in the snow going 150 feet to the right then back along the rock band toward the 10 ft notch where the aid station is perched. Koop and I headed for the right route, which in hindsight was fairly sketchy, as it was super hard and icey and the upper part had very poor foot holds. I was glad to have some climbing experience through there.

We soon were at the aid, there is basically room for a couple people at a time, due to the exposure and small notch that this remote aid station sits on. It was windy too. So, I downed a quick potato soup, filled my bottles and dropped of the south side for the 4500 ft descent in 5 miles down to Telluride. After the first drop, you traverse over to Mendota Ridge to the west. There is some good exposure through this section and some straight down sections. It was slow going and loose. Finally we made it down to tree line and got on the old double track for the rest of the way to Telluride. We hit the aid station at the pavilion in Telluride around 2:45am.

I was extremely tired and could not keep my eyes open. I wanted to nap, but the aid station captain gave me trouble for “hanging out”…so, against my better judgement, I staggered out of Telluride solo (as Jason was only pacing to there). This proved to be a huge mistake, not taking a 15 minute power nap. I was dozing off on my feet the entire next section over Oscar’s Pass and it was quite a blur. It took me 4 hours and 40 minutes to go 9 miles.

The only cool thing that happened was coming up on a porcupine on the trail. I was dozing off while hiking, when all of the sudden this ball of spikes flares up 10 yards in front of me and makes me jump and yell. He waddled up the trail and I gave him room while talking to him and he cruised up into the grass and off the trail so I could pass. I reached Wasatch saddle at sunrise, traversed up to Oscar’s Pass and then the 3,000 ft in 3 miles down the knarly, rocky jeep road to Chapman. This was the worst section of the course. There are so many rocks, you can’t really run. Sometimes it’s so technical on this course it made me laugh out loud.

I got to Chapman with one goal, lots of food and a 15 minute power nap. When I got there, I found to my surprise, that Ty and Whit were both there. Whit had been throwing up and was trying to get his stomach straight and so was Ty. Ty was in a sleeping bag snoozing.

I got in my drop bag, situated my gear, at a breakfast burrito, two cups of potato soup, a sprite, water, wrapped up in a blanket in a camp chair and told them to wake me up in 15. I was out in 3 seconds. I woke myself up and asked them how long I’d been there. They told me 40 minutes.

Ah! I gotta get going. I asked for a hot tea, downed it and limped out of Chapman. The next section was okay. I felt better. I still hadn’t got any fire back, or rhythm, but it was morning and I wasn’t dozing off anymore. This was the second to last climb and it’s a long one, Grants Swamp Pass. It’s a long singletrack climb above treeline and into a basin to a 1/4 mile headwall of loose scree. It is hands and feet, take one step, loose a half step by sliding back down. It’s slow going, but I reached the top and sat down, took a gel and started the crazy, steep descent off the ridge.

I hit the Kamm Traverse and cruised into KT aid, sat down, ate a turkey sandwich and Ty and his pacer, Leland Barker arrived…Ty was back from the dead. I left following them and we cruised up the road that parallels the stream, after about a mile, Leland and Ty were about 100 yards ahead of me and I see them coming back toward me. They think we missed the turn. Bummer. We turned around, Ty and I hiked together while Leland ran ahead. We had missed the flag for the cross country turn off because a 4wd pick-up was blocking it.

We crossed the river and started the steep singletrack climb. I lost contact with Ty and Leland and settled into my slow-woe-is-me-hike (with a single breath stop break every 10-12 steps…again, another bad habit that had creeped in since Ouray. My mental game was horrible the second half. As I’m taking the bad-habit-mini-stop break, Betsy Nye caught me and passed me. A tiny fire lit in my brain when she passed. I decided it was time to buck up and get it together and get this thing done. I would just keep Betsy in sight. So, I started hiking with no stops allowed, just keep moving.

After about 15-20 minutes, I broke out of my mental blahs and started feeling better. I soon caught Betsy and Ty. We caught James Varner, who was looking happy, but hammered. James and I exchanged some small talk and I kept plugging away at the climb. The final pitch is cross country in some tundra straight up. Finally, Betsy, Ty and I topped out the ridge, traversed and started the final descent to Putnam Basin Aid.

I started off the top and passed Betsy and Ty. I wanted to be done. My quads were feeling hammered but I decided to push a bit. I arrived Putnam, refilled water, ate a piece of banana and left as Ty and Leland were arriving. I then decided my final motivating goal was to beat Ty.

So, I ran the final descent hard and hit the river crossing, crossed Hwy 550 and was hiking the short grunt up to the powerline trail that marks the last 2 miles of the course. As soon as I hit the dirt on the other side of the highway, Ty arrived at the river….50 yards behind me.

I hit the power line trail and pushed it hard enough to be out of Ty’s sight. Finally, I arrived at the final small road climb on the edge of town, dropped onto the singletrack across the meadow and the last 3 blocks to the finish line at the high school. I crossed the line in 33 hours and 18 minutes in 15th place. I kissed “the rock” (a tradition in this race) and sat down.

This is a great race…beautiful, hardcore, technical, aesthetically pleasing…the ultimate 100 miler. I’ll be back.

So, one last thing, the cowboy hat, guitar and banjo explanation. Roch and I were playing the Hardrock Song at the Awards Ceremony. Roch had been making up a song to himself about 5 or 6 years ago while running this race to the old tune “My Walking Shoes don’t Fit Me Anymore”…however, Roch’s version is “My Running Shoes Don’t Fit Me Anymore”. It’s become a tradition that he adds a verse every year. He’s up to 6 verses and upon hearing I was coming, recruited me to play guitar and sing harmony, while he sang and played banjo. It was a good time and came out pretty well.

All in all, an awesome and humbling race. But, you’re not really a Hardrocker until you’ve run it both ways…clockwise and counterclockwise. So, I’ll enter it again, in hopes of being picked in the lottery. Hopefully, my running shoes will fit me next year, just in time for Hardrock.

0 Hardrock Ramblers: Jeff & Roch’s Tribute Song

0 Bighorn 100 Mile Wild & Scenic Trail Run

I road tripped out with two other Central Oregon ultrarunners, Chris Kraybill and Sean Meissner. They were both running the 50 miler. After camping in Idaho, then Jackson, Wyoming on Tuesday, we arrived on the west side of the Bighorns and camped on Wednesday. Then, got up Thursday and cruised up Highway 14A into the Bighorns, west of Dayton and scouted out the conditions on the high point of the course and the turnaround.

Trail conditions were perfect, dry and tacky. Unlike last year, that area was fully saturated from snow melt and there was water standing on the course around Devil’s Canyon Road. The temps were sunny but chilly at 9000 feet, a down coat being necessary. With the course conditions and my legs feeling really good, I was optimistic for race day.

There was talk of thunderstorms on race day, but we awoke to just a slight haze. Bighorn has an 11am start (the norm in most 100 milers being 4 or 5am starts). It’s nice, because you can get a good nights sleep the night before, get up and not feel rushed. I woke up on race day about 7am and had my normal pre-race meal of 3 raw organic eggs and organic raw milk, rocky-style, a banana, and water.

About 10:10am, my folks, Chris, Sean and I jumped into Chris’ VW Eurovan, Phoebe, and headed up the Tongue River Canyon Road to the start. We hung out and made small talk with Rob Cain and Tim Turk, two other Oregon runners from Ashland.

After checking in, I mingled with Roch Horton and Ty Draney, two former Montrail/Patagonia teammates. This would be my first showing under the new Patagonia Ultrarunning Team banner, as Columbia Sportswear bought out Montrail this year. Montrail/Patagonia became Montrail/Nathan, and Patagonia started a small grassroots team. Rod Bien and I were the first one’s to approach Patagonia to inquire about a team after the Columbia buyout. I was stoked to be representing Patagonia. They’ve always been true to their athletic core and are a very eco-conscience company—hard to find in today’s corporate structure. Plus, their gear is bombproof.

This year’s competition was a little deeper than last year. Last year, Ty Draney was my main competition. This year Ty was back from a stellar 3rd place finish at Wasatch 100 last September. He had stomach issues at Bighorn last year in the heat. I had told him to switch from E-caps to S-caps for his electrolytes and he had after Bighorn last year and hadn’t had any stomach issues since. Me and my big mouth! Oh well, I can’t help it. I’m such a geek; I like to share the love!

I knew he would be tough and unlikely to repeat his issues from last year. John Hemsky from Colorado and Sean Andrish from Virginia were entered, both men having fast times in other 100-mile races. Sean being the faster of the two. Also, Matt Sessions from British Columbia, who I later found out, was gunning for the course record too.

The 2006 Race Begins
At the start, Andrish went out like a rabbit. Ty and I had discussed this before the race. We knew he had a tendency to go out fast and either runs really well, or blows up—we were expecting the latter because everyone underestimates the course at Bighorn. It’s deceptive. Most mountain 100s in the west have 20,000-26,000 feet of ascent/descent. Bighorn only boasts 18,000. But the course is remote, the singletrack is super narrow (6 inches wide, rocky, with ground foliage covering 50-80% of that), the terrain is exposed, and the long climbs take their toll. Plus, everyone has to night run due to the 11 am start.

As we let Andrish go running up the first major climb, Ty and I settled into 4th and 5th place, in a chase pack. We were power hiking and talking about “conejo” (Spanish for “rabbit”) or joking in a Yosemite Sam voice, “I hate rabbits!” We were joking and hiking as Andrish pulled slightly away. It was early to be running so much on such steep terrain. I knew what was coming.

Soon we reeled in John Hemsky and moved into 3rd and 4th. Now only Sean Andrish and a ponytail dude (someone we didn’t know) were in front of us. The ponytail dude was losing ground to us and we couldn’t see Andrish anymore.

As we neared the top of Tongue River Canyon, you run along a fence row. The fence is a natural line and has a faint trail you run on. However, shortly after running along the fence, the course veers right across a meadow, which is a heavily flagged section to quickly gain a ATV road and top out the first climb. This is where Ty and I took the lead last year when the leader missed the turn and followed the fence row. We were approaching that spot when we noticed Andrish and the guy in second going up the fence row, past the flags! The curse of the fence row had struck again! Unbelievable!

Sean had notice his mistake and was heading back when we started up the meadow in the lead. They were maybe 4-5 minutes behind us now. Not much, and we fully expected Sean to catch back up soon. As we took the lead, Roch Horton ran to the front just to have the luxury of saying he’d lead the race. He was cracking me up. I looked forward to seeing him at this race. He’s a tough dude. He’s 48, and still runs 4 or 5 100s a year and finishes in strong times. I hope I’m as tough as him at 48. He’s an inspiration.

We topped out and headed down to Upper Sheep Creek Aid. We came into this aid in a group of 4 or 5 runners, with Sean only about 3 minutes back; Matt Sessions in 3rd place with another guy back 100 yards from him. Ty and I made our way to Dry Fork Aid at mile 13.5 by 1:38pm. This station is the first drop bag spot and our first point on the course where we’d see our crew.

I had planned on running drop bag to drop bag, with only quick stops at other aid stations to refill bottles and grab a mouthful of fruit. I had pre-filled Amphipod waist packs with my gel (Gu) refills and also pre-filled 24 ounce bottles at the drop bag locations consisting of one water and one Gu2o sports drink. Ty and I cruised in talking and laughing and he surged into the aid station to jokingly be in the lead. He’s a cool dude. I’ve really enjoyed getting to run with him the past three 100s I’ve done.

The Colonel (Sean Meissner) was waiting for me with my waist pack and my bottles. He walked with me as I switched gear, weighed in, ate some orange wedges and a bit of banana and Ty and I left together descending the 4WD road to Cow Camp.

The heat was starting to hit on the way to Cow Camp. The haze had blown off to make way for blue skies with a few scattered puffy white clouds. We arrived Cow Camp at 2:40pm and cruised on together to Bear Camp, arriving at 3:55pm.

I had planned on skipping Bear Camp and only refilling water this year, as it’s a remote aid station where they backpack in the supplies. The food is processed stuff (wheat thins, M&Ms, and pretzels usually—stuff that won’t go bad and they can easily pack in). I was planning on doing only gels though that section. Ty and I were in and out in probably 20 seconds and we were working together to pull away from the rest of the pack.

Ty is a really strong downhiller and we are pretty compatible runners, pace-wise. We descended the steep 3.5-mile section from Bear Camp to Footbridge in 33 minutes and arrived at the Footbridge at 4:28pm at mile 30. I was feeling the heat and feeling a little bonky coming into Footbridge.

I was sick of the Gu2o in my bottles and hadn’t drank enough in the last hour and a half and decided to switch back to only water and leave my pre-filled bottles in my drop bags I also had opted to ditch the Gu2o refills and bars I had in my waist pack and only proceed with gels. Less weight, and it wasn’t agreeing with me anyway.

My lack of hydration showed as I weighed in at 147 (ouch, my pre-race was 153). They let me go without a word, but I knew I needed to bump up my liquid per hour and get back on track or it was going to get ugly.

Ty and I left together, but I was fading a bit. He pulled 40 yards ahead and we quit talking. I soon had to make a pit stop and I lost contact with Ty. This next section to the Narrows aid proved to be my lowest point, as I tried to drink a lot and not slow down too much.

By the time I hiked into the Narrows at 5:35pm I was feeling better, as I had downed 48 ounces in less than an hour. I quickly downed two cups of broth and headed out 3 minutes behind Ty. The next section is 6.5 miles and uphill to Spring Marsh had been a slow section for me last year. I ran out of water in ’05, but was prepared with bigger bottles this year. I plugged along trying to keep up on my hydration and get back ahead of the bonk curve. I downed another 48 ounces in less than an hour and refilled at a creek crossing.

The water comes right out of a cliff band above and it’s clear as a bell and rushing down the hillside. Oh, it’s ice cold and so tasty. I filled both 24-ounce bottles, chugged 12 ounces and topped it off again. I got out of there and back to my hiking and running transitions as I made my way to Spring Marsh at mile 40.

I arrive at 7:10pm to find Ty had increased his lead to 8 minutes. I wasn’t freaked out yet. We still had a long way to go. I relaxed and kept forward progress, as I didn’t want to start pushing too hard, too soon.

I made Elk Camp by 8:00pm, downed a bowl of Raman and headed out 8 minutes behind Ty. Good. His gap was holding steady. I just wanted to keep him within 10 minutes and I figured I had a good chance of closing the gap after dark on the downhill back to the Footbridge.

As I pushed to the turnaround, I was feeling a blister on my right heel. I was wearing the Nike Kyotee and they were rubbing a small blister, nothing terrible, just annoying. The shoes are light, cushy and neutral. They were proving too lightweight and flimsy for this technical course. Plus, I had rolled my ankle slightly 3 times on the first major descent. I was nervous for the upcoming 17-mile night descent to the Footbridge, as it’s even more technical. Luckily, I had a plan.

To be safe, I had my Mom carrying an extra pair of shoes, Montrail’s Leona Divides (now discontinued…but, I have 4 pair at home in the closet to be safe). The Leona has been my racing shoe for 3 years with no blisters or issues. They aren’t very cushy, but super stable and bomb proof for my feet.

Not only was the blister bothering me, my heart rate monitor strap on my chest was bugging the me. I had recently pushed it down around my waist. I was planning on ditching the HR monitor and switching shoes at Porcupine.

I was also interested to see where Ty was. This is one good thing about an out and back course. You get to size up your competition at the turnaround. I made my way across Devil’s Canyon Road (1 mile from the turnaround). No Ty. I crossed the road, and descended the meadow to the dirt road (a half mile out). No Ty. Sweet. I was about a quarter mile out and met Ty on the dirt road at 8:53pm. Nice. He was not that far ahead. We did a little high five as we passed. I knew Ty would be hammering once he hit the downhill past Devil’s Canyon Road. He’s super-competitive and he would make me work my rear off to catch him.

I approached Porcupine Ranger Station hollering out instructions to my Dad…

“Ditch the empty Gu packets in my bottle pouches! Refill bottles with cold water! I can’t stand the Gu2o mix! I’m not using the bottles in my drop bags, just water! I need my other shoes too!”

They shuffled me into the Ranger Station shed, which was packed with people. I was so focused I didn’t even see who was there. I wanted to get in and out. I weighed 156. Three pounds heavy. I’ll take it. I was retaining a little water from salt intake and abundance of water I consumed on the climb to get my hydration caught back up. But, it was paying off, I felt strong.

I guess the Footbridge had radioed Porcupine about my weight loss, because the aid station captain kept probing me, “You’d tell us if something was up, right Jeff?! Are you feeling okay?”

Giddyup! Bronco Billy wants to ride, aid station lady! (I didn’t actually say that, she would have thought I was delirious and pulled me for sure.) I was definitely ready to roll. Now Ty was the conejo.

I ditched everything but gels in my waist pack, put on my lights, as my mom threaded my iPod headphone chord through my jersey. I quickly swapped my orthotics into the Montrail’s, downed two cups of noodle soup, tied an extra long sleeve jersey around my waist and left at 8:57pm with fire in my eyes and 10 minutes to make up.

On my way back and over Devil’s Canyon Road, I started thinking about how I should try to catch him. I decided to run smooth and relaxed in the fading daylight and not push too hard until Spring Marsh. It would be dark by then, that 10-mile section from Spring Marsh to the Footbridge is technical and I had confidence in my light set-up for hammering downhill at night. The Petzl Myo XP on my head and the Tikka XP around my waist. It’s really bright and allows smooth, non-bouncing, hands-free light.

Due to family time conflicts with my wife and kids and running my own business, I’ve found a good time to train was at night after the family was asleep. I had run 2-3 hour night trail runs nearly every Friday night from 11pm until whenever. Plus, various night maintenance runs during the week pretty much all year. I was very comfortable functioning at night. I figured I had a slight advantage, so, I needed to use it.

On the way to Elk Camp I met the 3rd place runner, at least 5-6 miles back. Good. Not close. I just needed to focus on Ty. I had to switch on my lights a couple miles before Elk Camp.

As I started to pass runners coming up, they kept giving me time differences. However, this is an inaccurate way to gauge because they are hiking uphill and we’re running downhill. I love that everyone tries to help, it’s super cool, but I knew not to rely on this info. For example, I had a runner tell me “he’s 15 minutes ahead,” and 100 yards later another runner said “4 minutes.”

I was relying on the aid station captains with the clipboards. However, I passed Tim Turk (from Ashland, Oregon), who gave me a smart way to know how far I was behind Ty. He said at 10:21 (time we’d been out at this point), Ty was at the muddy section. So, I crossed the muddy section at 10:29 and knew I was about 8 minutes back. Thanks Tim, that was a smart and accurate way to relay the info, brutha.

I arrived Elk Camp at 9:50pm with Ty 8 minutes ahead still. I downed more Raman, refilled my bottles and pushed on to Spring Marsh.

I started thinking about Spring Marsh’s broth soup. Oh, it’s the best on the course; it’s a broth with a little bit of rice in the bottom of the cup. Mainly broth. Super salty. Yummy. I got into Spring Marsh at 10:30pm, downed two cups of broth and left with 10 minutes to make up on Ty. I was getting anxious.

I was feeling really good, I was fully hydrated, and the temps were holding and comfortable. I was running in a sleeveless jersey and gloves. I was sweating, but not much at the current night temps. Skies were clear. No threat of storms coming. Giddyup! It was time to put the hammer down if I was going to catch Ty. This was my chance. I needed to catch and pass him by Footbridge or he’d be hard to drop up the long climb to Dry Fork.

I ran the technical 6.5-mile section to the Narrows hard, at times a little reckless, but I felt motivated. I love this hard course. I wanted the record. I wanted to come back next year. “You can’t come back to Bighorn if you don’t win. You can’t come back to Bighorn if you don’t win.” Jennifer’s little motivator was whispering in the back of my head. Thanks, baby.

I hauled into the Narrows and immediately asked what Ty’s lead was. They said, “he just left, he’s 1 minute in front of you.” Sweet Lord Almighty! Awesome. Oh man, was I fired up now. I downed a cup of broth and went out of the Narrows at 11:40pm like a panther, ready to pounce.

I had been thinking of how I would pass him if I caught him. It was going to take a little “stategery.” Tom Neilson was the answer.

I remembered a story Rod Bien told me about a veteran California ultrarunner named Tom Nielson. Tom is in his late 40s and has been in the Top 10 at Western States 100 several times. The story goes like this: At Western one year, he had overtaken a competitor at night by flipping off his headlamp and only using his handheld light pointed at the trail directly in front of his feet until he was right up on the runner and said, “on your left,” flipped on his light, passed them, and dropped them.

I knew of his wily ways from Miwok 100k last season because he pulled a similar tactic on me. I had passed Tom, but he quickly caught back up to me on a long gravel road climb in the last 10 miles. He cruised along with me for a while, and then put the hammer down for 300-400 yards to put a big gap on me. Then, settled into the same pace again. By the time I figure it out, the damage was done. By doing so, he’d broken me mentally from keeping contact with him. Smart move.

So, that was the plan…I was going to pull a Tom Neilson. It was the perfect place to pull it too. The 3.5-mile section from the Narrows to the Footbridge is a series of steep downhill and switchback descents with at least half a dozen rolling 40-100 yard uphill sections. It’s curvy, wooded and in a tight canyon of granite boulders and cliff bands. If I passed him and put the hammer down I could leave him in his little bubble of light and he would have to bring it to keep contact with me.

When I caught up with Ty, he was hiking on a flat section at the bottom of a steep descent I was coming down. I quickly flipped off my headlamp, used my momentum off the downhill to blow by him at sub-8 minute pace and casually asked him “how you doin’ man?”…he replied, “hangin’ in there” and I quickly flipped on my headlamp and left him in his little bubble of light.

I ran hard on the curvy uphill section and then immediately into rollers and down some steep switchbacks. I pushed hard to the Footbridge, running every uphill section and descending fast over the next 3 miles. He hadn’t followed.

I knew I needed to put a gap and get in and out of the Footbridge aid before he arrived. Ty later told me at the finish that when I blew by him, he said to himself, “I just had my butt handed to me.” Perfect. That’s what I wanted him to think. Thanks, Tom Neilson!

I ran into Footbridge (mile 66) at 12:17am, weighed 153, ate a whole banana, got my gel from my drop bag, water, and got hiking up “The Wall” to Bear Camp. I was really motivated now and pushed the pace. I needed to put some cushion on Ty and fast. The climb up to Bear Camp is super-steep, 2200 feet in 3.5 miles.

At one point as you come up into an upper sagebrush meadow, you can see down the steep section you just came up. Ty’s light popped out of the scrub oaks below. Still only 5 minutes back probably. Dang. I ran every section that was remotely runnable and was power hiking hard on any steeps.

I hiked into Bear Camp at 1:17am to find the same scenario as last year. Everyone in their sleeping bags. That’s okay, I just need water. I helped myself and got out of there.

The next section is 6.5 miles uphill to Cow Camp. I was going on only gels every 15 minutes from the Footbridge and they were getting old. After a quick water refill at the spring, I was soon passing Head Dunk Tank, not too far from Cow Camp aid.

I hiked up into Cow Camp, refilled water and ate 5 or 6 orange wedges. Oh man! That was good! I left there at 2:55am and hit the 4WD double track to Dry Fork.

Last year, I thought I was lost on this section and was freaking out. Not this year, I knew I just stayed on the double track up to Dry Fork. I was feeling good and running a lot with short hike breaks.

Dry Fork is up on a ridge on a gravel road on the horizon and you can see it from 3 or 4 miles out, like a space station…the white tent glowing in the night. It was a dim glow at first. But, I knew when they spotted my lights, because the place got considerably brighter. They were getting ready. One of the aid station staff at Dry Fork later told me that they normally go to a cabin and sleep. However, they kept getting radio messages that Ty and I were on record pace and I was speeding up. They had opted to stay put and wait for my arrival.

As I approached Dry Fork, I could see my Dad’s cowboy hat silhouette against the tent craning to see who was behind the light. I gave a little “yee-haw” and he let out a big yell. He yelled, “how ya feelin’?” and I replied, “I think I’m gonna go after that record!” I was smelling the barn now with less than 18 to go.

My parents weren’t supposed to come to Dry Fork in the middle of the night. I told them to go to the motel and sleep and meet me at the finish. When they went to bed at 10:30pm, my Mom said to my Dad, “If Jeff can run 100 miles through the night, we can get up at 2:30am and crew him at Dry Fork.” Aren’t Mom’s great? They never quit worrying about you, even when your 34.

My Dad’s getting the hang of the crewing thing, as this is his second time (my brother and Dad crewed me at Wasatch in ’04). Before Wasatch, my folks didn’t fathom what I was talking about when I was explaining these crazy long trail races called ultramarathons. You really have to crew for someone at a 100 miler to fully appreciate and understand what it’s about. He knows firsthand and I think he’s hooked. Being a seasoned crewer, he had heard my water only request at Porcupine Aid and had already filled my bottles with water only at Dry Fork to save me time.

I went into the heated tent to weigh-in. Oh, this is bad. You’re perfectly acclimated to the cool night air and you go into a heated tent to weigh-in and get your drop bag. It really messes with your body temperature.

I stepped on the scale…109. What?! 109? The lady started to write it down when it soaked in. I was like, “that’s not right!” She shuffled me off and quickly set the dial on the scale to “0” and I weighed 154. Better.

I grabbed some gels and water and got going at 4:17am. The sun came up on the 5-mile section to Upper Sheep Creek. I arrived Upper Sheep at 5:20am, ate some orange wedges again and took off to cross Sheep Creek and climb “The Haul”—the last climb on the course—1400 feet in less than a mile.

I was about two-thirds of my way up, had my head down taking a gel, when I heard something that made me look up. A moose blocking my path at 80 yards. A big female standing broadside in the meadow next to the trail. I quickly scouted my escape route, as moose can be extremely aggressive, especially if there are young ones around and this one was female.

I had a stand of pines 40 yards to my right, parallel to the trail. I yelled. Her hackles stood up on her back. Great, she wasn’t budging. I started thinking; “this moose is going to keep me from the record!” I picked up a rock and heaved it in her direction and yelled again. The rock bounced 20 yards in front of her. She snorted and started to trot across the trail toward the stand of pines. She came to a walk and slowly made her way to the pines and stood just inside the first layer and stared at me. I started hiking again and quickly topped out the ridge for the final descent into the Tongue River Canyon.

With the moose behind me, I started the steep descent to the trailhead and the final gravel road section to the finish. I came off the trail into the Tongue River Canyon Trailhead Aid at 6:37am.

The aid station staff had just arrived and everything was still in the truck. They were panicked. They said, “you’re going to get the record!” and I said “heck, yeah! I just need water in one bottle and any fruit you might have.” The man frantically ripped open a water jug and poured me a bottle full while the lady quickly half peeled an orange. She gave me the half-orange and I got moving again, eating while I ran.

I ran the gravel road back to Dayton, totally pumped. I hit the paved road in town and entered Scott Park with a big “Yee-haw!” and my Dad yelling back. I came across the line in a new course record time of 20 hours, 24 minutes, 28 seconds. It was awesome. First thing I did was call Jennifer to tell her she and the kids were coming to Bighorn next year!

My Support Crew. Thanks to my wife, Jennifer, and kids, Benjamin and Annie…their patience with my crazy training at all hours and their presence in spirit and prayers and happy thoughts coming to me from Seattle. I know they wanted to be there (Jennifer barely slept Friday night). The Senator (Chris), and The Colonel (Sean), my parents and the race directors, staff and volunteers at Bighorn. They put on a hometown, stellar event, Wyoming-style. And all the Central Oregon ultrarunners, who are all so supportive and great training partners. It’s an awesome community we have.

My Sponsors. A big thanks to Patagonia for the gear and Footzone of Bend for my shoes and nutritional products—Teague, Super Dave, and the Footzone crew for my crazy requests and constant brainstorming of ways to improve my racing in their shop. Or, just listening to me when I have some new crazy idea.

Note on Central Oregon. We had a great showing, Sean Meissner won the 50 miler and Chris Kraybill came in 7th in his 50-mile debut. Also, Ryan Ness got 3rd place in the 30k. Ryan, Sean, Chris and I do a lunch tempo run out of the Footzone every Wednesday. It was cool to see such a strong showing from my Central Oregon homeys. Also, Rob Cain from Ashland broke into the top 10 with a 10th place finish in the 100 miler. Oregon was representin’!

I’m so pumped to get the record! I’ve thought about it for a year. It was the best race I’ve had yet. I feel very blessed to have come out on top and still be healthy and uninjured.

0 2004 Wasatch Front 100 Mile Endurance Run

Wasatch Mountains, Utah
September 11-12, 2004

A Little Background
For those who are not familiar with ultra running races, this footrace starts NE of Salt Lake City and runs the Wasatch Range south to Midway, Utah, near Heber City. It consists mainly of very rocky old sheep and single track trail and 4WD and ATV roads (if you can call them roads) with a few highway miles to link it all together point to point for 100 miles. Most of the miles are run at elevations above 8,000 feet and hits the high point at mile 78 at 10,480 feet.

This race is one of the 4 oldest hundreds in the U.S. This year marked the 25th Anniversary of the race and is part of the Grand Slam Series (the Grand Slam is running and finishing the 4 oldest 100 mile races in an 11 week span).

This race is extremely steep and technical, and boasts 26,824 ft. of elevation gain and 26,050 ft. of loss over 100 miles. This year’s finishing rate was 56%. 230 started, 131 finished. The race starts at 5am on Saturday and you must be finished by 5pm on Sunday (36 hours). Normally, the weather can range from 25 degrees to 100 degrees.

However, this year the forecast was for a heat wave to hit Salt Lake City and the Wasatch Range on race weekend. The weather on race day topped out in the upper 90s and only got into the upper 50s at night. So, it made for a challenging afternoon and a perfect night.

The Race
My plan for this race was to attempt to break 24 hours and get the coveted Crimson Cheetah Belt Buckle. I knew it was a hard goal to set for myself, but what good are goals if they are easily attained, right? My race day plan was to go out harder in the cool morning and cruise the middle part of the course when the heat hit, then push hard the last 20 after Catherine’s Pass (the high point of the course). I knew to break 24, I’d have to stay on my hydration and nutrition and never get so behind I couldn’t compensate quickly to turn it around. The race start was in the upper 60s and clear with a slight breeze.

We headed out at 5am with headlamps. I started out in the upper quarter of the pack. The plan was to work my way up into the top 20 in the first 5 miles before the first major climb (4,000 feet in 5 miles). This proved to be an easy task, as the trail was wide and well traveled and easy to pass in the dark. After chatting with Montrail teammate Krissy Sybrowsky briefly (the eventual women’s winner) and a quick “hi” to her husband Brandon, I worked my way up further.

I settled into the first climb behind several guys who seemed to be going at the pace that I was comfortable and we all settled into the power hike pace for the next 4,000 feet. It started to get light a bit at 6:30am and by 6:45, my headlamp was stashed away and we were nearing the first natural spring before Chinscrapper, a gnarly steep section of the climb through a rocky scree-filled bowl to gain a 9,000 foot ridge. The spring was barely putting out any water. I filled one of my bottles about halfway and decided to get moving due to the slow process of it.

Once I gained the ridge, it rolls for a while and I was able to do some running and power hiking transitions. I came upon the second natural spring (which we were told at the pre-race meeting on Friday was dry) and it was gushing water. I quickly filled both my 28 oz. bottles and got moving again.

I cruised along and into the first aid station at 13 miles, filled my bottles and continued to the next aid (Francis Peak) at mile 18.7 and the first spot I would see crew. My brother Joel and my friend Sean Meissner, who is a training partner and another Montrail runner who would be pacing me from mile 53 to the finish, were ready and waiting with my stuff. I made it into Francis Peak at 8:49am (11 minutes ahead of my pace chart). Sean and Joel shuffled me through, and after some green machine juice and a banana, gel refills, and my MP3 player and 3 minutes burned, I was off.

The next section was mainly a dirt 4WD road for a few miles before it starts hitting some steep up and downs on single track. I settled into pushing the ups hard and running relaxed and quick on the downs while jamming to some bluegrass on my MP3. The next few remote aid stations passed quickly and it was starting to get hot as I made my way to Big Mountain Pass aid stations (the next crew stop) at mile 39.4.

This station is cool, because you can see it for a few miles out as you descend on it. There are a lot of people yelling and ringing cow bells. It has a sweet single track descent the last few miles. As you switchback through some scrub oaks, your crew can get glimpses of you coming in. The whole scene got me pumped up and I hauled on the descent into the aid station to my first weigh-in checkpoint at 1:02pm. I was 155 pounds, 3 pounds heavier than pre-race weigh-in. Excellent. I was staying on my hydration and food intake, important, because it was really starting to get hot.

Sean ushered me over to my stuff and family: Mom and Dad, Joel and my wife, Jennifer and son, Benjamin…who I might add, looked like Pigpen from Charlie Brown. He’d been playing in the dirt. Nice, that’s my boy!

Sean and Joel refilled my waste pack with Gu and Succeed (electrolyte pills) and ditched my MP3 player (was very sick of it by now because I’d listened to every song on it 3 times…I need a bigger memory chip). I downed a mango juice and a quarter of an avocado/cheese/butter/sourdough sandwich. I walked through the station while eating and drinking and got moving again.

As I left Big Mountain, I really started to feel the heat hitting, so, I stuck to my game plan and went easy. My right knee was really starting to bother me too (little bout of runner’s knee the last 3 weeks). I took 600mg of ibuprofen, put on my knee strap and ignored the pain. Got passed by quite a few runners in the 8-mile section to Alexander Ridge aid station. I knew I was going to be cutting it close on having enough water. The heat was kicking hard. The ridge is exposed and SW facing and the sun is just beating on you in the afternoon. I had 56 oz. of water and ran out about 15 minutes from the aid station.

However, others were running out sooner and I started to reel some of the runners in who had passed me. I got to Alexander Ridge aid station at 2:56pm (right on my pace). I was bonking just a bit from running out of water. So, I stayed an extra minute to down 3 glasses of Poweraid and a banana and melon. Drank another glass of water, dumped one on myself, put ice in my hat and took off again. I had run the next section in training, when I came out with Rod Bien for Outdoor Retailer a few weeks earlier. So, I was happy to know what was coming.

The large amount of liquid I consumed was starting to kick back in and I felt hydrated and started feeling good. Since I sweat A LOT, I had been taking up to 2-3 Succeed pills an hour through the hot part of the afternoon, so my salt intake was fine.

NOTE on Succeed/Salt and calories: This season I really started to listen to my body by my nausea. If I felt any nausea, I would immediately pop a Succeed tab. It always went away after a salt tab. So, I took that as a sign my body needed salt. Sometimes I would take a gel packet and a salt tab together at the hint of nausea. This is what I did throughout this race and I never really felt too much nausea (and never threw up either). I also never went more than 25 minutes without some sort of calorie intake, whether gel (Gu) or aid station food (depending on where I was on the course).

I pushed it down into Lambs Canyon aid station (mile 53.1) and came up out of the creek bed and scrub oaks (right before the gravel road climb up to the aid station) to see Jennifer standing there.

Oh, she was like a shimmering oasis.

She was holding a bottle of water, but quickly informed me I could not drink it, only dump it on myself. Cool with me, I dumped it all over my head, torso, and legs. I swear I heard a sizzling sound! It was SO hot. As we hiked up to the station, she said I looked good and continued to tell me that I was one of the only ones who looked okay and that I was in the top 10.

She said everyone else was coming up hammered from the heat. As I topped the gravel climb, I gave a “YEE-HAWWW!” only to hear my brother Joel echo his signature Crewmaster J hillbilly yell…sweet. He crewed for me at White River 50 Miler in July too and we always yell in and out of stations where we see each other. Gets me pumped up. Nice to have some country boy yelling going on, reminds me of my Missouri roots. Gotta let Bronco Billy out for some roustin’ occasionally.

I arrived into the aid station at 4:09 (9 minutes slow on my pace chart). This was another weigh-in check point, my weight was 150 (2 pounds light). Not too bad considering the last 14 miles were an inferno. I downed a bunch of liquid, ice in the hat, banana, grapes, melon, and left with Sean as my pacer.

Sean and I transitioned between running and hiking up the paved road the few miles to the single track that takes us over Bear Ass Pass (1500 feet in 2 miles). We were now in the trees and this was great. I knew the bad heat was over. I had also trained this section and knew the climb and descent off the backside of the pass into Mill Creek Canyon. Sean and I pushed the pace up Bear Ass Pass and I let it loose a little on the descent. We picked a guy off on the descent and hit the road on the uphill to Upper Big Water aid station and picked off another.

With some more country boy yelling, we met my brother and Dad at Upper Big Water at mile 61.6 at 6:25pm (still 10 minutes slow on my pace). They had my drop bag out and my stuff ready. To get ready for night running, I switched to my Ultimate Wasp pack to carry gear and layers and ditched my waste pack. I still carried two handheld bottles instead of a water bladder because I find it easier to monitor my water intake by the hour with bottles. I get too lazy on hydration sipping on a bladder.

After some soup and Poweraid, we headed out on the climb to Dog Lake. This section is a wide single track trail with lots of runnable sections. We settled into hiking and running transitions up to Dog Lake. Next, the short descent after the lake, then the climb up to Desolation Lake. This climb was tough for me. I was bonking a little and going pretty slow. We got passed by someone on the climb. Oh well, still early. Race doesn’t start until after Brighton. Anyway, I was in a bit of a funk at this point. We got into Lake Desolation aid station at mile 66.9 at 7:55pm (30 minutes slow).

However, this was the best station. It was starting to get dark. So, while I ate and drank, the aid station staff got my lights, gloves out of my pack, and massaged my quads. We headed out and started the climb up to the 9,000+ foot ridge above. I started feeling better and came out of the funk once we gained the ridge. Low on calories, I suspect. This section runs at over 9,000 feet of nice rolling single track. I was feeling good again, and pushed it a bit.

We came into Scotts Peak aid station only 6 minutes slow on my pace goal. Nice. We now had a long fire road then highway descent into Brighton ski lodge. We settled into a nice efficient pace and spoke briefly about strategy for the remainder. I told Sean I thought it best if we didn’t “push” up Catherine’s Pass climb due to the high elevation and save my legs for all the downhills and smaller climbs in the last 22 miles after the pass. He agreed and we soon arrived into Brighton (mile 75.6) at 9:52pm.

Another weigh-in, weight 151. Good. Ate soup and drank Poweraid while my Dad massaged my quads. Headed out of Brighton and started the climb to Catherine’s Pass. Right at the beginning, Sean and I were following another runner and his pacer up a gravel road with are heads down and I looked up to realize that I thought we’d passed the trail. They said, “No, it’s this way.” However, I’d run it in training and was 95% sure we were wrong. I asked Sean to run down the hill to check. Sure enough, my memory served me correctly. We only wasted a few minutes. We quickly dropped those guys and continued up. Just below Lake Mary, we passed another runner and his pacer (he was sitting on a rock looking hammered). We continued up and got to the top at 10,480 feet with that runner right behind us (funny how getting passed makes you get a burst of energy). We quickly dropped off the other side into the steep singletrack descent and dropped them.

The remainder of the course is mainly downhill from Catherine’s Pass at mile 78. So besides 3 small climbs of 600, 800, and 800 feet respectively and a dozen smaller grunt climbs, the last 22 miles descends from 10,400 feet to 5700 feet. BAM! Come on quads, buck up! Lord, give me focus and strength (yes, praying is a good thing in such times.)

My quads (and right knee) were really hammered at this point, but I just kept pushing it and massaging them for about a minute at each aid station. Sean was leading the way and I was trying to stay on his heels. At midnight, Sean and I shouted a “happy birthday, Jenn!” Jennifer’s birthday was Sunday. (Yes, she’s an angel to let me do this on her birthday, I owe her BIGTIME. She’s getting presents for weeks to come.)

So, we quickly came through Pole Line Pass aid station at 83.3 and Rock Springs at 87.3 hitting my splits perfectly. As we left Rock Springs, I told Sean I wanted to put some in the bank on the 5.8 mile section to Pot Bottom (the final aid station). My original goal was to get there no later than 3:25am. I wanted to be there sooner, if possible.

As we left Rock Springs, Sean mentioned that all we had left was less than a half marathon, that we were under 13 miles to go. Sweet. He pushed the pace and I just concentrated on breathing and not falling. Right in the middle of “The Plunge” section (400 foot rocky, loose single track descent in a quarter mile), Sean says, “Use the hill, bitch.” I know it sounds terrible, but I started busting up laughing, as that is an old joke Jennifer and I use to use on each other when we were running down hills together to remind us to lean forward and use gravity. She had told Sean about it and he had saved it for the right time…perfect! In the words of my brother, Joel (and my 2-year old son, Benjamin), “Roll, homey!”

We arrived at Pot Bottom aid station at mile 93.1 at 3:06am. We asked how far in front of us the next runner was, they said “15 minutes,” no chance to catch them. So, I told Sean good work, downed some food and a coke and we left Pot Bottom at 3:08am with 6.9 miles to go. I was really smelling the barn now. Let’s get this thing over with.

From Pot Bottom, we had an 800 foot 4WD road climb in a little less than two miles. We humped up the road with a few sections of running and topped out quicker than I thought we would. Sean asked if this was the downhill and at first I said “no, couldn’t be,” but I’d run it in training and realized I didn’t recognize it in the dark.

I was excited now, I knew we had sub-24. I forgot my recently popped blister on my toe, sore quads, sore knee, sore IT band, everything. Sean stepped aside and let me lead and I let it go on the final 4 mile, 2500 foot descent on a rock-strewn ATV and single track trail. We popped out onto the paved road, 1 mile from the finish and Sean caught back up to me. He ran in front of me and said “Come, on, push it!” I was pushing, but couldn’t hang with him. So, I said, “Dude, I’m red-lining! My legs won’t turnover any faster!” We laughed and then looked ahead and saw another runner and pacer. Sean was saying let’s catch them and I thought, no way that’s another runner. But, they saw us and picked it up.

Sure enough, it turned out to be the runner just ahead of us in 5th place that had 15 minutes on us at Pot Bottom, he finished 76 seconds in front of me. Dang, if I’d known they were that close, I would have run the whole last hill. No way to know though. So, I continued into the lawn area and the last 100 yards to the finish at Homestead Resort. My official time was 23:32:09. Good enough for a 6th place finish. Only seven people made it under the 24 hour mark this year.

Sidenote: Krissy Sybrowsky came in 7th (17 minutes behind me) and became only the fifth woman in the history of the race to break 24 hours. She’s superfly tough. She ran the fastest split from the last aid station at Pot Bottom to the finish!

The race was awesome! Dave Terry, another Oregon runner, told me before the race that the one thing he’d learned after 6 finishes (this year was his 7th), was “respect the course.” Dave, that’s an understatement, dude. I’m so pumped to break 24 hours. It was SO hard and SO technical. My body is more thrashed than it’s ever been. It’s very humbling.

The entry into the Royal Order of the Crimson Cheetah is quite a comical ceremony. Fun stuff. The belt buckle is actually pretty cool. Happy to be done and recovering. Now I just have to get ready for 24 hours of Moab on my mountain bike in October. I’m on a 4-man team. No tough training for that, just fun.

Huge thanks to my family and crew, Montrail for the sweet shoes (Leona Divides rocked the house), all the gear from Footzone in Bend (Teague and the gang). I especially could not have done this without the prayer and support of my family: Jennifer, Benjamin, Mom and Dad and Crewmaster J (Joel) and my pacer, Sean. Sean did an awesome job pushing me to a great finish. He was excellent. Not much talking, all business (the way I like it). Kept me on my splits. I also have to give props to the Big Man Upstairs for the strength and focus to finish strong.

Peace and love,
Jeff