Bear100 Race Report

  Running a 100 miles is a long way. There is so much that goes into such an undertaking, I’ll try to recap my Bear 100, my preparation and my lessons learned. 

After a quick break, where I did not sit down, I headed out - a short climb and then a nice ridge - where at 4 miles Mike McKnight had parked his truck and water available.  My feet were really hurting this point, and I sat on the bed of his truck and scrunched my toes.  Mike told me when his feet hurt - he’d have people tickle his feet during a break to give him some other pleasant sensation.  After taking a very short break my feet felt better and I started the descent down a single track trail toward the Right Hand Fork.  The same thing as Leatham Hollow descent - as I descended and the air got thicker, I felt better and better and I started pounding down 4 miles of trail, going from 18 minute miles to 11-12 minute miles.  I had a guy right on my heels - I could hear his foot falls and after a while the polite thing is to yell at them to yell at you if they want to pass.  He said “No this pace is perfect, I am loving it, your helping me.”  We talked a bit while we dodged rocks on the descent - the usual intro running questions : “Where you from?” “Have you run the Bear before?” “Is this your first 100 miler?” - He told me he was from the valley, went to high school there and now worked at Thiokol.  I told him I’d graduated from Mountain Crest in 1986 and he said : “I was born 3 years after that in 1989 and right now your kicking my butt.”  That made me smile a bit.   At the trails end, we were at the third aid stations : mile 37 at Right Hand Fork and I was an hour ahead of my splits.

My coach says that there are maybe 18-20 things that can go wrong in an Ultra and it only takes one or two to throw things off track.  For example - forgetting to cut your toenails before a long run can lead to a hole in the adjacent toe that bleeds and bites with every step or not applying anti-chafing to the legs can cause blistering so bad you can’t walk - and don’t even try to imagine how bad the shower hurts afterwards (though diaper rash ointment isn’t just for babies).  Luckily many of these things you discover in your training and figure out how to manage.  For me I didn’t know things were going off track until they were.  Good news is that Ultras are long enough that usually you can adapt and recover.  

My drop bag was at Right Hand Fork, I found my bag, and sat down in a chair and used wipes to wash my feet and legs, re-tape my feet, change my shoes and socks, change my shorts and shirt, and swap out my packs and pick up my headlamp.  Because I didn’t have crew - I had to manage all of that myself - with that and getting some soup I burnt 45 minutes before getting back on the trail. My hour gain had whittled down to only 15 minutes. 

I ultra-shuffled/ran down the trail to Temple Fork (mile 45) - where I had to deal with some chaffing that was starting - I had some SportShield wipes that I used to apply to my nethers but it didn’t seem to cake on too well.  I crossed the Logan Canyon (Highway 89) at 7:45 pm in the dark with the help of a crossing guard and started up the Blind Hollow trail which had a 2500 ft climb. The almost full moon was amazing as it shone through the trees and there were some very loud cows that bellowed in the dark along with a hooting owl.  Right on schedule at 10:23 pm I pulled into the Tony Grove aid station - mile 51 and wandered around for a minute or two until Wyatt and McKaye found me and we retired to the van.  I had to lock myself in the van and change my shorts and re-apply another dose of SportShield to fight off the chaffing.  Then Wyatt and McKaye came back in and I drank some TraderJoes freshmade limeade and sucked down some avocado mash and then Wyatt joined me as we trundled out of Tony Grove into the night.  It was cold, maybe 25 degrees.  I kept only my shorts on my legs, but I had some wool gloves on and only really required the Houdini to keep me warm; when things go a bit colder - as we traveled through the sinks - I could just pull my hood on and scrunch it down and would stay warm - moving helped generate heat.

Another chink in my armor hit us again : night miles are slow miles.  As fatigue sets in your normal shuffle pace, or even your walking pace slows dramatically.  Sleepiness wash over you like waves, it waxes and wanes.  There were times when I was weaving and there were a couple of times that I closed my eyes for a split second and stumbled.  There were so many times I told Wyatt I just wanted to lay down and take a nap : “Next time it happens I want to stop and close my eyes.”  Like a good pacer - he encouraged me to keep going a little bit farther - and he kept encouraging me to eat.  Sometimes I’d struggle to just get the gel out of my pocket, and then I’d carry it for 10 minutes before finally ripping off the top and then slowly sip the gel contents.  I didn’t really feel like eating much.

At 2:30 am we arrived at Franklin Basin Aid Station (mile 61) - there was a nice big fire burning bright and warm.  We grabbed some warm broth and sat in the chairs by the fire warming ourselves.  The aid station cooks yelled out : “BLTs coming up!” - and Wyatt went and grabbed us a sandwich - they tasted so delicious in the warmth of the fire.  I grabbed a hot quesadilla and we started out again.  Slow plodding miles in the witching hour were entirely forgotten. Neither of us talked - just kept moving forward.  Around 4:30 am - as we climbed up through the sagebrush we passed a guy getting up off the ground - “You ok?” - “Yeah just catching up on my sleep.”  That was the last we saw of him.  Finally at 6:30 am - still dark we came into Logan River Aid station (mile 69) and I sat down in a chair in a tent that was somewhat close to a heater and told Wyatt I wanted to close my eyes for 5 minutes.  The guy across from me sitting in a chair had both his headlamp and his waist light on - and every time he’d move his waist light would shine in my eyes and wake me up.  I asked him if he could please turn off his light, he mumbled an apology. And some British dude at the other end of the tent kept annoyingly trying to talk to me.  Shivering from the cold, I woke up - after just a few minutes and we got up and carried on.  Finally the sky lightened, we could turn off the headlamps and around 9 am the sun finally came over the horizon and the warmth and light provided new energy.  We made the last tortuous uphill climb to Beaver Mountain - passing just before the aid station - Carl Tippets Bib344 - aged 70 - who was plodding along at a steady pace in his size 13 Hokkas.  We chatted as we passed and McKaye met us at Beaver Lodge, mile 75.

Same issue as before, I was chaffing even more, things weren’t so bad I couldn’t move - but I needed to pay care and attention.  So I climbed into the van by myself and changed my shorts, but this time I just caked on a very generous layer of Squirrels Nut Butter.  And then Wyatt and McKay helped me change my socks, re-tape my feet.  I had been wearing Altra Olympus 5’s since Right Fork but they had been hitting the end of my toe and it was hurting, so I changed into my Topo Pacers.   I sucked down more avocado mash and drank more limeade.  Those two van aid stations both took 26 and 34 minutes - there went another hour.   If I’d had more crew (and Wyatt and McKaye did their best but it was unplanned and adhoc) those stops could have been done way more efficiently.  Now due to stops and the much slower night miles, my 33 hour time had almost 2 hours added to it - 35 hours - which was getting close to that 36 hour cut off.

I left Beaver Lodge at 9:44 am - I had 7 hours and 15 minutes to go 25 miles, with 3 big climbs totalling 3200 vertical feet.  Sounds like plenty of time but on 75 mile legs that was going to be tight on time and tough on the mental and physical push.  I optimistically hoped I would be ok - but things would start to get very very very tight as the distance began to close in on me.  A good benchmark this late in the race was a 20 minute mile average - with ups and flats and downs.  Immediately you have to start doing trail math - how fast am I going?  How far is that getting me? How much time is left?  Will I make it?  With each mile and aid station you have to constantly re-evaluate and re-calculate how far is left and how fast do you need to go to hit the cut off.   I mentally skipped ahead to Ranger Dip at mile 91.8 - the last aid station with the last big climb - where I’d have roughly 8 miles to go. My trail math calculations estimated that if I reached Ranger Dip by 3:30 pm I’d have enough time to hit the 6pm cut off.   

I walked the flats crossing highway 89 and heading 5 miles to the next aid station at Gibson Flats.  There were a couple of runners ahead of me - they did the ultra shuffle and started pulling away on the flats, but as the climb started I caught them again.  I caught and passed Carl Tippets again - we had been yo-yoing each other over the last 50 miles.  He had that impressive relentless forward pace that kept him continually making steady progress.  Based on me spending more time in aid stations he’d always get ahead of me and then I’d catch him. By this time he had a pronounced lean to one side - as I passed him - I told him that I thought he was toughest SOB on the course and I wished him luck - he said “I’m chasing cut offs, which is not as fun.”

I arrived at Gibson Basin 2 hours later - a 1000 ft climb and 5 miles - I was falling behind pace.  Even though the road leading out was flat - I wasn’t feeling motivated to run - and I walked along though I made an effort to push on the climbs - and I was keeping up with 21 and 22 minute miles on the ascent.  I arrived at Ranger Dip at 3:37 - pretty much right on schedule - I grabbed a refill of my water bottles, I joined another runner as we started up the steep climb - 600 ft in a ½ mile - it was slow going because it was so steep - my heart rate would spike and I’d lose my breath; I had to stop several times and lean on my poles to catch my breath.  Soon I just switched my strategy to putting my head down and making continual small steps up - the mild hallucinations in my brain started making up stories about how this was some sort of amazing strategy for ascending that was faster than pushing.  

Either way that climb took me 30 minutes, but I beat him to the top and I started shuffling the gentle traverse of the top of the ridge.  Over those next 2 miles, I was only making 16 minute miles and several other runners caught me and passed me - including the guy I left Ranger Dip with - and in my dazed state I was amazed that they were able to run. How could they do it?  Then I reached the top of the hill and I was a mile 95.8 - it was 4:30 pm - there was about 5 miles left.  As I once again ran the mental trail math in my head I realized that my 16 minute mile pace was not going to get me there by cut off.  By this point I had been awake 33 hours - and my mind continued its mild hallucinations.  I kept trying to figure out what I was doing running down the trail… My brain kept making up a story that I just needed to put my feet on the trail at Amazon Prime 2 day Speed.  Work thoughts and concepts started making their way into my hallucinations.  For some reason it seemed revelatory to tell myself NO - what I was trying to do was actually move down the trail at a faster minute mile pace.  I’d almost lost a sense of what I was actually doing. 

I resorted to physically slapping myself in the face to try to hone my attention- and make my mind focus on the tough task at hand - moving much much faster down the trail without falling. 

And it was time and I had gravity on my side. I started letting myself go; I started moving my feet faster; when the trail was rocky I’d have to slow a bit to dodge the rocks - and even though for those 3 down hill miles : I averaged 13, 12 and 14 minute miles - my pace hit at times 8-9 minute mile pace.  I was in a complete state of flow - my mind could not comprehend how I was moving at such speed. I was almost floating.  I was amazed that my feet and legs suddenly did not hurt.  And that I wasn’t tripping and falling. I grabbed a water flask from my vest and carried it in my hand and as my breath and legs moved in rhythm I’d occasionally take a sip. 

By now I had taken 10s of thousands of breaths and in all that breathing - I had picked up some dust, a lot of cold air and probably just over worked my respiratory system.  I had started to develop a cough and with every breath out and in I could hear a whistle wheeze come out of my mouth. While trying to run and breathe, I kept trying to make sure I was on track with my pace and gauge how much was left.  I didn’t want to pull out my phone for navigation. I had the course loaded on my COROS watch - AND my watch was also telling me the total time and distance traveled.  I had to keep switching between the pace view and the navigation screen, Knowing which way to go is obvious - it’s the dirt trail.  I could look up and look out and see Bear Lake where the finish was.  At the top of the hill the Lake seems still so far away - but as I descend the Lake gets closer. Finally I wind through the last groves of scrub oak where a family is gathered taking photos and I am at the bottom of the hill and I emerged from the trail onto the gravel Fish Haven Canyon Road.  

I knew the lakewas to the right and I started running down the road.  I couldn’t see Highway 89 yet and I kept running past houses and the road kept going and going - finally after a mile I rounded a bend and I could finally see the highway a half mile ahead of me.  FINALLY getting to the paved highway I crossed and started left.  Amazingly from the side of road Wyatt and McKaye appeared and ran down to meet me.  There was 12 minutes left.  I asked them where the finish line was?  Wyatt told me that it was just down the road.  Where I said?  Just down past that yellow sign?  All the way down there?  Yes - just keep going man - you got this.  I took off my pack and asked Wyatt to carry it. And I put my head down and I doubled my pace.  After I got to the yellow sign.  Where now?  Just a bit further and you turn right - and 30 seconds later I turned right toward the beach - Where no?  Just down to the end of the road and turn right?  All the way down there?  Really?  Come on….. But I kept shuffling along toward the end or the road - people walking and in cars honked and cheered me on and I turned right and finally there was a short finish chute and a finish arch.  I crossed the line at 35 hours 53 minutes and 58 seconds.  Zac Marion gave me a big hug and he and race director talked to me about my finish and I collapsed to sitting on the ground.  I was exhausted. I had pushed and pushed.  I had to keep my will to move stronger than my desire to stop and I had to push myself to go faster than my body wanted to go. And somehow miraculously I had flowed down the trails - my feet had found their way - I was strangely detached and in awe of what I had done running down those trails off the ridge - and upon reflection in the days since I believe that I had help - I believe in the divine and in the presence of my father with me as I ran.

The Aftermath

 I was exhausted when I finished. And I made my way to a chair. I immediately called Stac to tell her I made it. She said “I know I’ve been following you all day”. I hung up and called my coach Jason Koop but it hit his voice mail.  As I hung up my brother Jon rang me - he’d been following me and seen my finish time.  I was mostly sleepy tired, though my feet and legs ached. On the ride back to Logan, McKaye drove, and I fell sleep so many times on the ride back down the canyon. I parked outside Wyatt and McKaye’s house and I showered in the van and immediately climbed into bed at 8:15 pm - waking at 1:30 am to go to the bathroom and not being able to readily fall back to sleep due to legs aching. These aching legs would last a couple of nights.  

The next morning I woke up early and started the van got headed on the road home.  It was a 12 hour drive and I just needed to be on the road.   I am generally not hungry after these really long efforts (24 hrs and 50-100 miles) - my body is in sort of a food flow state where the stomach has been used to getting fed every 20-30 minutes continuously for 36 hours and the stomach is producing acid to digest but then suddenly the food stops.  After several hours while getting gas I bought a bag of Corn Nuts and ate those, the salt tasted good.  Everytime I’d try to eat - I’d get acid reflux and I’d have to force myself to chew very slowly and swallow small bites very deliberately.  I pulled over for some brunch in Boise - some french toast and it took me forever to eat it - slow small bites carefully chewed and carefully swallowed.

As I drove home, hours after the finish reflecting on the experience- I would be overcome with emotion and tear up just thinking about it. Maybe it’s the richness that your life feels from such an experience. Because many things seem to make me cry - like listening to Norah Jone play with Questlove - such a pure expression of their talents - that came because of 1000s of hours of practicing their craft. In all of my running, unlike the last two efforts, I never wanted to quit the race, or quit my coach or even quit running all together. I always wanted to keep going.  It took all my willpower to hang on to moving faster, it took mental focus to keep pushing, even when your body is telling you to stop.  Some run to race, some run to win, others run to finish.

Lessons Learned 

In one of my conversations passing Carl Tippets he said : “Races are won and lost in the porta-potty” - which is another way of saying don’t waste time at aid stations.  I spent almost 2 hours in aid stations; hard to say if I hadn’t taken the time to deal with things : changing shoes and chaffing if I’d have not been able to continue at all - but clearly being more efficient would have given me more time at the end.  

I also won’t neglect more organized crewing to help me get in and out of aid stations faster - they are a clutch resource.  Pacing - I really enjoy my solo time - and I think I’ll likely always keep a pacer for those night miles but I kind of enjoy the aspect of running solo.  

Food - in looking back I only ate around 2150 calories of gels while on the go - not that many given I was moving for 34 hours (which should have equated to at least 6800 calories) - BUT - I did eat a bunch at every aid station, including the stops in the van - and I never felt like I bonked due to no food - so I think I did ok given the aid station food I consumed.

And the course really is beautiful! It was gorgeous weather and the colors were splendid, it was like running through Fall the entire time. Not enough good things to say about the course, high Utah mountains, not rocky and grand per se but full of that high mountain beauty found in the Wasatch.

Otherwise things went well with gear and went great physically,  of course I think you can always be fitter and more prepared but overall things went really well. And I am happy being Dead F****ing Last - I am glad I finished. I got the experience that I was looking for. And I sincerely appreciate all those that helped me, from coach to friends and to everyone that cheered me on - it meant a lot.