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24 2010 Bighorn 100: I flu the course

Leaving Dry Fork (mile 13.5).

Getting night gear at Porcupine Ranger Station (mile 48).

Heading back into the snow and the night.

Hard finish in Dayton, Wyoming. 20 hours, 34 minutes.

Not to be confused with “I flew”, but yes, “I flu.” Nothing like running 100 miles with flu symptoms—builds character. At least that’s what my wife tells me.

Having children is a blessing. I love their energy, how much laughter there is in our house, and their undying creativity. It makes me feel younger and I adore them. But, as every parent knows, with kids comes sacrifice. Especially if you’re an ultrarunner training for a 100 miler. Runs at 10pm with a headlamp or getting up at 4:30am to get to a long training run in so I can get back to hang out with the family—losing sleep to train. I’m okay with it, it’s part of the gig. I’ve made friends with this fact.

The one thing every parent understands is the sympathy and heartfelt pain you endure to watch your child heaving their guts out over the toilet, or worse yet, all over your bed at 2am. The dreaded flu bug.

So, 5 days before Bighorn 100 and 36 hours before we were to leave for our Bighorn-100-Montana-camping-family-week-of-fun vacation, you can understand my horror and disbelief on Sunday night when my daughter started throwing up. I kept telling myself “it’s food poisoning, she’ll pull through, we’re okay.” After cleaning up pukey sheets for the 3rd time at dawn on Monday morning, upon my wife’s urging and loving tired whisper “go in the other room and sleep, you have a race,” I went to the other room to catch some much needed ZZZs.

By Monday afternoon, my fears were confirmed when my son started throwing up too. The flu! Definitely the flu. No. No. No. This can’t be happening. I washed my hands like a doctor going to surgery, I took every supplement we had in the cabinet to boost my immune system. I waited.

We postponed leaving until Wednesday morning, our drop-dead leave time to make it to check-in in Sheridan, Wyoming by Thursday evening (1,100 miles away). All the stuff went through my head: “My parents are coming to crew from Missouri, they want to see their grandkids, I’m so fit, we’re supposed to camp and have fun in Montana, I can’t get sick, oh man, I’m so fit…”

My son quit throwing up on Tuesday and we decided to take the kids and let them recover on the road. After all, their grandparents were coming. My daughter was feeling way better by Wednesday afternoon and came out of the funk to be quite the little joker in the car and start eating like a horse. Back to normal. Thank you, Lord. My son was another story. He was still not eating, sipping on drinks, slept a ton on the drive. It was coming out “the other end” too much still. He was weak. We were worried. He was being a tough little dude. No complaining. I was proud of him, but we were questioning whether we made the right decision in having them, especially him, make the trip.

We made it to Sheridan with 15 minutes to spare for check-in on Thursday evening. I had to carry my son (who’s almost 8 years old). He couldn’t walk he was so weak. He hadn’t eaten anything in 96 hours. My parents came to see their grandkids and Benjamin barely talked to them. He was out of it. I was tired, but felt okay still. I was worried about him.

Then, to add to it all, I was up the night before the race from 4:30am-6:00am with him in the toilet at the campground. He seemed a little better, but still was having emergency trips to the bathroom. I hadn’t even had a chance to think about the race at all. I was worried about my little guy. He wasn’t bouncing back like his sister on this one. His legs were giving out while I was racing. He was refusing food and drink. Jennifer finally gave him an ultimatum on Friday afternoon, chug a glass of Emergen-C or go to the Emergency Room. He chugged, realized it wasn’t too bad, then chugged another, and he started bouncing back within 20 minutes. His electrolytes were way out of whack.

When you’re a parent, there’s no prima donna athlete thing going on…you suck it up and you wipe butts and clean up puke…it’s what you do. You do what you have to to get them back. You don’t complain and you just roll with it and show up to the start line.

I woke up on race morning, ate, and did my usual pre-race ritual. About 2 hours before the 11am start, I looked at my wife with a worried look and said, “I don’t feel right.” She looked into my eyes with that deep worry and understanding only a mate of 17 years can deliver and knew I was not just having pre-race butterflies. She gave me a potent Oregano Oil pill and gave me a little hug. I took it and laid down to wait for start time.

With my son still feeling down and out, Jennifer didn’t even go to the start, she stayed at the camper and hung with the kids.

I know some of you reading may criticize me for downplaying a 3rd place finish and a 20:34 time at Bighorn, but please understand this post is not meant to be cocky, but more of a emotional purge. During the race, I wasn’t sure what was going on, I had an idea it was the flu, but it was like a little mental note that kept surfacing when I just never felt “on.” My little “mental note” was confirmed on Sunday evening (after the race) when I got the full blown flu in Livingston, MT. We had to get a motel room and I laid in the fetal position doubled over from cramps in bed for 16 hours with fever and chills. By Monday afternoon (18 hours later), I was coming out of it and felt a lot better by Monday evening. About the same window as the kids flu spell earlier in the week.

To understand my brain a little, I’ll give you my mental outlook going into this race. I know this course, I was, until this year, undefeated in every showing with 3 wins there. It was MY course. And that’s how I looked at it. It’s hard to swallow all that training and preparation to get knocked down the week of the race. But it happened and I couldn’t do anything about it. Please understand that I’m not trying to be a sore loser or take away from any other runner’s performance out there. Mike Wolfe threw down a very, very fast time…and Joe too. I may not have pulled out win #4 even running on all cylinders, but, what Mike ran is what I wanted to run that day too. My goal splits were to be right there where he was. I was ready. I had a killer spring of training that involved 70 days straight in March and April with no days off from running. A great run at Silver State 50 miler as a fitness tester in May just missing Jasper’s CR by 83 seconds, and a last block of 83 miles and 14,000 feet of climbing in a 96 hour window 3 weeks out from the race. I was ready and more fit than I’ve ever been going into my 4th Bighorn. I was fit for a sub-19 run and I could feel it. But, what can I say? It’s a 100 miler. Life is unpredictable. Curve balls come and you just have to roll with it. What will be will be. I wanted to fly, I just flu.

The Race itself…well, what can I say…it’s kind of a blur. I normally can remember every aid station split to the minute and recall it back with razor sharp accuracy. Not this time. I’ll spare you the boring details. Needless to say, I never felt right. So none of the drawn out race reports that I’m known for. I’m sure some of you out there are breathing a sigh of relief. Where am I now? Things are looking up. Everyone in the Browning household is healthy. The kids are eating strawberries and cucumbers like there is no tomorrow. My garden is growing quite well and summer is finally here. The Cascade high country is opening up for training. Things are looking up indeed. Giddyup!

8 Bighorn 100: Coasting In On Fumes

Bighorn win #3 and a snow course record—18:56:28!

Pre Race
Well, I was worried going into this race, as the week before I left, I averaged 3-5 hours of sleep per night finishing up 3 website designs, lost 14 chicks we were raising in 3 nights (from a predator entering our chicken coop), and rescued a newborn fawn from the jaws of our neighbor’s huge dog. Craziness.

The day I was leaving for Bighorn (Monday), I was driving my truck up to town to grab a couple of last-minute things and was about 1/2 mile from my driveway, when I slammed on my brakes to the neighbor dog bounding out into the road with a mule deer fawn in its jaws (still alive and yelping). He dropped it at the sight of me and I jumped out, rescued the little guy, who couldn’t even walk yet, and took him out to a field and placed him under a juniper near his VERY upset mother, ran the dog off with some well placed rocks and went home to finish packing the tent trailer! Thus, my 3rd trip to Bighorn 100 began…

This year the whole family was making the 1,100 mile trek to the Bighorns: Jennifer, our two kids (5 and 2), and Mabel the dog. We hit a campground in Idaho on Monday night, then two nights south of Livingston, MT on Tuesday and Wednesday night (where we got in a nice family hike up to a waterfall, and I enjoyed my final training run up to snow line as well).

Our arrival in Wyoming on Thursday around 1pm started with another slight hitch. We were coming through southern Montana on I-90 and I was running low on fuel. I kept thinking the next exit would have a gas station, but unbeknownst to me, there is a 50-60 mile gap with no services from southern Montana to northern Wyoming. Ranchester, WY (our exit to Dayton) had the first services. About 15 miles from Ranchester my “low fuel” warning light came on and I asked Jennifer to grab the owners manual and look up how much actual fuel we had left—2.7 gallons, perfect, we’ll be fine. But, to be safe, we said a little family prayer to get us to the gas station.

Well, the guage wasn’t working right, ’cause we hit the Ranchester exit to turn onto Hwy 14 and my car sputtered and died…out of gas. DANG! I quickly jammed the car in neutral, turned off the radio and the air conditioner and hit the flashers, rolled through the stop sign and started coasting. The exit is about a 1/2 mile from town and I was hoping there was a gas station on this end….I couldn’t remember though.

We coasted down the hill, hit a flat bridge and we slowed down to 15, 14, 13, 12 mph…luckily I was towing the tent trailer and the weight behind us got us over the flat bridge and the final little hill into the edge of town and sure enough…a gas station…but on the other side of the street….shoot…quick look, no cars coming, no cars at the gas station on my tank side. Bam, we coasted right into the slot with the car out of gas and filled ‘er up. I raised my hands to heaven and gave thanks. I later told Jenn that’s what my race plan was. Come into Dayton on fumes, nothing left.

We dropped the tent trailer in Dayton, and drove to Sheridan to check-in, drop off drop bags and meet up with my folks (who were crewing for me). I got to the pre-race weigh in, weighed 148, got the final alternative snow course mileage info, grabbed my laptop, finished up my splits and the RDs (Karen and Michelle) let me use their office at the the Sport’s Stop to print out my splits so I could tape them on my bottles. I have to say, I was a little bummed when I heard the course would be different due to 3 feet of snow and 7 foot drifts at Porcupine Ranger station. I really wanted to go after the course record this year. I felt really fit and ready. But, mother nature said no and that’s the way it is, just got to roll with it…much like the previous week’s craziness.

Thursday night, after hunkering down with a rain/hail storm at the campsite, I did some jammin’ with Roch (we shared a campsite) on my guitar and Roch on his banjo and dobro. I hit the sack about 10:30pm.

I woke up, had my standard pre-race meal of a banana and 3 raw eggs Rocky-style in raw milk, cup of black tea and preceded to try to keep distracted by helping Jenn get ready for her next day while I would be running (but she wouldn’t let me help…she told me to get ready for the race). At 9, I walked over for the pre-race meeting at the park and at 10:30, we jumped in the car to drive the 3 1/2 miles up Tongue River Canyon Road to the start.

The weather was mostly cloudy and in the 70s, with an afternoon chance of thunderstorms. On my walk up to the start line with both kids in tow, I ran into Mike Adams and Scott Jurek from Seattle, had a little chat with them, told Scott I’d see him later (as he was pacing my Patagonia teammate Justin Angle).

The Race
After the traditional prayer and national anthem, a good luck kiss from my wife and kids, we were off up the Tongue River Canyon. Ty, Justin and I settled in together with a couple of guys ahead of us as we hit the singletrack before the first major climb. We soon reeled in one guy and let the other guy go, as he was hammering right out of the blocks. We all settled into a nice train of about 6-7 guys with the one out in front about 100-150 yards or more.

Right before the first climb starts, there is a water stop. Justin and I stopped and topped off one of our bottles, while Ty took the lead of the small group. Justin and I rejoined the group, bringing up the rear. We all settled into hiking the first big hill with a few short jogs on flatter sections.

About halfway up, I found myself feeling like I was waiting on the line, and decided to get in front of the group at the next flatter, runnable section, which I did and Justin followed. I picked up the pace a bit and soon, just below the fence row, it was me, Justin and Ty with a small gap on the other guys, with the one guy (Jesse from Bozeman, MT) out in front still. We topped out the first 8,000 ft ridge and ran down The Haul, across Sheep Creek and into Upper Sheep Creek Aid Station at 12:45pm, right on my splits.

Justin, Ty, and I left together and we proceeded to make the climb up to Freezeout Point (new section this year). We caught Jesse on the upper section of Freezeout and soon another guy from Bozeman, Erich, caught up to us. The group of 5 (me, Ty, Justin, Erich, and Jesse) ran together down into our first crew/drop bag station at Dry Fork at 1:45pm.

I told the guys we were going pretty fast, as we were coming into Dry Fork at the same split that Ty and I ran in ’06 when I got the record. However, due to the course change we were 1.5 miles further (old course is 13.8, this year was mile 15.3, with the addition of a 1,000 foot climb). Everybody just nodded, said nothing, and continued to run the same speed. Again, gotta roll with it.

As planned, my dad was waiting with a Nathan waist pack and filled bottles to swap. I grabbed the goods, and started to leave, when I noticed he’d given me the wrong pack! (Since we were coming through Dry Fork 3 times during the race, I had a specific pack for each time.) I ran back up hill frantically yelling “WRONG PACK!” and my mom and dad met me, swapped packs and I was off down the hill to Cow Camp to catch back up to the other 4 guys. I caught back up and we all proceeded to jam along together at a good pace.

We came into Cow Camp at 2:45pm and started to new, steep climb up to Riley Point (part of the 50k course, only the opposite direction). This section has some trail and some cross-country sections and we were all taking turns propping flags back up to mark the course as we hiked up, as most of them were flattened. The long, hard climb up to Riley Point was steep and tough, with lots of slimy, slick mud sections, or snow piles to post hole through. We all were grumbling that this section would SUCK on the return route at mile 70-something. We were soon across the ridge line and on our way down to Dry Fork the second time.

We came into Dry Fork 2 at 4:20pm. We came in to weigh, Justin first, and the digital scale kept reading “error”…he would have to step off, they’d tap it to reset, wait, and step back on, wait…error…repeat. After about the 5th time, Justin was loosing his patience, as was I. All 4 of us were waiting in line (Ty had dropped back on the ridge for a pit stop). I finally said, we can’t wait here all day, we’re on course record pace (even if is was “snow course record”)…as I wanted to stress that they either needed to let us go, or figure it out.

Luckily, they readjusted the scale placement on the ground and it worked. I was on and off 2nd, grabbed some orange wedges and took off, as Justin had taken off down the hill and gapped me by a good 60 yards. I thought he might be making a move, so I chased…but we got down to the bottom of the first steep pitch coming out of Dry Fork and he lost his footing on the super muddy, rutted ATV trail we were on and took a side-digger in the mud. It was quite graceful and we were soon, all 4 (Justin, me, Erich and Jesse) back together in a tight group.

We were in and out of Cow Camp 2 and on our way to Bear Camp when we got hit with the edge of a rain storm. It was fairly mellow and I soon took the lead on the rolling sections after Cow Camp Aid. I noticed that the Jesse and Justin were no longer right on me (before this, we’d all been swapping and yo-yo-ing leads). They seemed to be okay with me leading most of the time.

So, we arrived at the water spring (a pipe shooting out water) somewhere near the middle of Cow and Bear Camp Aid. I refilled quickly and got hiking up the short climb. As I looked back, I noticed the two Bozeman boys were in line filling, and Justin was behind them “watering the bushes” and would have to wait to fill his bottle. So, I decided to gamble and make a small move.

Up to this point, I was trying to figure out where I would go for it, as I wanted to make a move earlier than normal BEFORE Justin picked up Scott as his pacer. I knew Scott would be a great motivator and didn’t want to try to drop Justin AFTER he picked up a pacer, but before. Tricky, considering pacers were available at mile 48 (just after Footbridge 1). I started toying with the idea of making a move and pushing the pace down the steep section from Bear Camp to the Footbridge before dark when the situation presented itself at the spring. So, I took it.

I picked up the pace a bit, ran a little more aggressively on the downhills, and a little more on the ups. I soon noticed that Jesse was the only one I could still see back behind me 60+ yards back. I got into Bear Camp at 6:33pm and was just leaving when Jesse was hiking up into it…but no Justin and no Erich.

I kept pushing down to the Footbridge at 7:05pm and was in and out and running the 1.4 miles down to Pacer Bridge. I got there and saw Jurek ready to go, waiting on Justin. I glanced at my watch and started heading back up to Footbridge. I quickly met Jesse, 2 minutes back. Justin 4 minutes back. Ty 10 minutes. Crap. Not much.

I had a blister on my right heel and was going to do a sock/shoe swap at Footbridge, plus I had to weigh. I got in, quickly swapped my shoes, packs, filled bottles, ate some orange wedges, weighed in at 149 and was out of there, hiking up the Little Bighorn Canyon. I had picked up my ipod shuffle, as this would pose as my company and digital pacer, since I was soloing it.

Once I got some fast bluegrass kickin’, I got a second wind. I started running a lot on the steep climb up to Cathedral Rock Aid Station. I got in and out and was about half way to Leaky Mountain, when I had to take a pit stop. I burned about 2-3 minutes. Not ideal, but a must. I got to Leaky Mountain turnaround at 9:14pm. Still had 30 minutes of daylight left. I looked at my watch, downed some broth and noodles, filled my bottles and got jammin’.

I ran into Justin and Scott within a couple of minutes…only 4 minutes back. Dang. I had to push and utilize my downhill-extra daylight advantage. So, I let it loose on the downhill and kept pushing for the footbridge. I soon ran into Erich and Jesse in 3rd and 4th and then Ty in 5th (looking strong) right before dark. Ty and I gave a high five and I kept pushing. At this point I was running a little scared, of course, and didn’t want to blow my lead and kept hoping I hadn’t made a move to soon.

Once dark hit, I kept going fast, as this section is somewhat familiar and I’ve run it two other times in past races, always at night. I got to Footbridge super pumped, weighed in at 149, got my drop bag, swapped packs and asked the weather forecast. They said upper 40s, low 50s, no rain. Sweet. No shell, only need my arm warmers. I saw Darin Swanson (waiting to pace the eventual women’s winner Ronda Sundermeier, another one of the Oregon peeps). Krissy and I had run with Darin when he came up with Ronda and Michael to train at Smith Rock during Memorial Day weekend. He helped me untie my arm warmers from my old pack and get them on my new one. Thanks buddy.

I started the hard grind (The Wall) up to Bear Camp and started running into other 100-mile runners coming down into Footbridge. That’s what I love about the out-and-back course—You get to see the other runners. It was cool. Got to see Bob (from Texas)…I camped next to in ’06, and Frank from Bozeman, who I also had met in previous years and briefly chatted with him at our night-time trail passing. He later said he felt bad that he had slowed me down. No worries, Frank…when I get so high-fallutin’ that I can’t slow down long enough to say hi to someone I know, ya ought to shoot me.

I got up to Bear Camp and pushed on for Cow Camp. The section from Bear to Cow Camp is rolling with a few grunt, steep climbs. I ran 90% of this section trying to add a margin to my lead over Justin. I figured the more I ran, the more he’d have to run to catch me. When I got into Cow Camp, I downed some orange wedges and melon and started up Rileys. I was looking forward to this section, because it’s a huge open meadow/basin you traverse and climb a ridge line above and I knew I’d be able to see how far back Justin was if he was within 30 minutes.

So, I kept climbing up, listening to a pack of coyotes carrying on in the timber across a drainage, directly west of my position. It was cool, very social and a lot of “talking.”

I topped out the first major section and was hiking along the fence row above, when I flipped off my lights to check. Yep, two lights down there. Justin, about 20 minutes back. Good news. I had put some time on him…bad news…not enough time to relax.

This got a fire under me again and I kept on it. Soon I was up and over Rileys and down into Dry Fork around 2:50am. My dad was waiting up and knew by my lights it was me. He was hootin’ and hollerin’ and I yeehawed back as I came in, weighed 152, downed some soup and got running up the road out of Dry Fork to bust out the final 18 miles.

I knew at this point, that if I just kept running everything runnable, I’d pull it out. So, I just kept plugging away, in and out of Upper Sheep Creek Aid. At Sheep Creek crossing before The Haul, I was taking the last few steps before the log bridge and stepped in the saturated, muddy grass and it was like ice…I slid down on my rear and dug both water bottles into the oozing mud. Nice. I had to clean them in the creek and proceed.

Soon, I was over the last ridge and running down the final descent into Tongue River Canyon in the dark. I flipped my lights off once I got down to the rolling river trail section, woke up the guy manning the water only stop, filled, and finally got to the Trailhead with 5.2 miles to go. I really had to make a pit stop and hit the pit toilet near the starting line area on the road.

I came out, walked a minute and started looking at my watch and doing some quick math. I was REALLY close to breaking 19 hours. So, I decided, I would be mad at myself and regret it if I didn’t at least try to go sub-19. So, I backtracked my iPod to Freedom by Rage Against The Machine and just listened to it over and over (5-6 times) while I concentrated on leg turnover, posture, forward lean and cadence. I hit the paved street in town and was soon at the Bridge, I yeehawed, entered the park hootin’ and hollerin’ to see Jennifer standing there. As I rounded the path around the park, she cut across the lawn to the finish line and my kids and folks were there to celebrate with me as I crossed the finish line in 18:56:28! I’m super pumped to go 3 for 3 on this course!

Thanks to Patagonia, Black Diamond, Rudy Project, FootZone of Bend, Clif and Nuun. Thanks Justin and Ty for pushing me so hard all day and Scott and Justin for pushing me hard all night. Good race, good competition. And thanks to my dad for crewing all night, my wife and kids for being there, and especially to God for helping me coast in on fumes.

Also, thanks to Justin for the compression socks recommendation, post-race. Those things work wonders on swelling! My ankles are back to normal.

Giddyup.

Just after the finish—walkin’ off the adrenaline.

6 Bighorn 100 Brief…

The walk to the start line in Tongue River Canyon with my two biggest fans.

I’ll post a more detailed report when I’m back. I’m sitting in Sheridan, WY, with my family and parents at the coffee shop with my swollen, beat-up, ugly-looking kankles enjoying a dark roast coffee. Mmm. I just wanted to give props to the Patagonia Team for busting a move and representin’ strong at Bighorn and sweeping the podium. I’m super pumped to run 18:56, it was tough and fun. Thanks Justin and Ty for pushing me so dang hard. I would not have slipped in under 19 without those dudes breathing down my neck. The alternative snow course was equally hard, but a bit faster than the normal course with all the climbing more compact and steeper. More to come later…

Bighorn 100 Mile Wild & Scenic Trail Run

Ty Draney and I joking around as we arrive into Dry Fork Aid Station (mile 13.5) in the lead.


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.