Moab Red Hot 55k 2019

You know that feeling of happiness when you come home to your dog?
You open the door, and there they are, excitement and joy emanating in 20 different ways. They jump up and down, tail wagging so hard their body wriggles back and forth. They spin in circles, run laps around the room, and bring offerings of chewed up and drooled on stuffed animals. And the smile, so big they sneeze repeatedly until you provide adequate attention. That dog is like me when I finally get back to the mountains. Except with less sneezing. And I don’t have a tail to wag. 

Dem SLC mountains

A few weeks ago I traveled west to the mountains in Utah to run in the Moab Red Hot 55k trail race. I flew from KC to Salt Lake City, spent a night there, and met up with my parents. Ernie and his girlfriend, Emily, live in Salt Lake City joined the party the next day and we all drove the 3.5 hours to Moab. 

The parents know how to stock the freezer!

Moab is incredible. The landscapes are unlike anything I’ve ever seen. The mountains are big and don’t have many trees. One of the reasons for wanting to do the Red Hot 55k was that I wanted to explore Moab. I could write an entire blog about the national parks we saw on this trip, but I’d be covering a very small percentage of what the area has to offer. Instead, I’ll focus this blog on the race and throw in some of our exploring pictures from completely different days. Another reason I wanted to run the Red Hot 55k was because of the competition. The race attracts high level runners and provides a stimulating course. 

The day of the race we awoke to a few inches of snow. The night before, the weather app had shown a 40% chance of snow. I was slightly disappointed because I had been looking forward to running fast and I knew the snow would make traction more difficult. Especially on the “slickrock” the course was known for. But all I could do was roll with it. As I’ve taken more laps around the sun, I’ve accepted weather as something out of my control. Everyone racing has to deal with the same conditions. 

I added a few base layers before heading to the start line to get my run on. I truly love snow and it made for beautiful scenery. All the runners congregated on a gravel road, at the base of a few large hills we’d soon run up. After a quick national anthem and count down, we were off. 

Immediately, a group of guys tough enough to wear shorts in 30 degree weather separated themselves. I recognized a few well-known runners in the group. Also, the fact that they were fast/tough/proud/dumb enough to wear shorts in snow led me to believe this was “the fast group”. I wanted to be like them. But with manpris. 

Strava link here 

I burned a match and caught up with the back of the pack making us a group of 6. The first mile or so went by quickly. A few of the guys knew each other and chatted casually. We took turns slipping and stumbling in the snow. I made my way to the back of the group to watch where their feet lost traction so I knew not to step in the same spot. While racing, I prefer to not look at my pace/watch because I want to feed off those around me, and overthinking sucks. However, being in a fast and competitive group like this was new territory for me in a 4+ hour running race. After a mile or so, I glanced at my pace. We were cruising mid to low 6 min miles. I knew I was in decent shape, but running sub 6:30 miles in the beginning of a 34 mile race was asking for a lot of myself. As soon as I started to see the pace dip below 6 min/miles on some slight downhill and flat sections, I knew I needed to slow down. The small layer of snow was not holding these guys back. 

I gradually let a gap open and began running my own race. Since there wasn’t anyone near me from behind, I was quickly in “No Man’s Land”. 

Near mile five I began a long climb that eventually led me to the highest point on the course around mile 10. I felt good running uphill. The steepness and snow felt manageable. I slowed up at a few intersections because I needed a moment to find the footprints in the snow from the group of five in front of me. After a decent amount of climbing, I made it to the slickrock. I took my time, knowing there were many miles ahead and perhaps the sun would melt the thin layer of ice covering the slickrock. I was little glad to be on my own so no one could see me daintily stepping around ice patches in my manpris. 

The slickrock terrain was a completely new experience. The area was open, and oftentimes it was challenging to see where the trail went. Unlike a trail in the woods where a path is eroded, everything looked to be worn the same. To guide runners, short sections of pink ribbon had been tied around bushes or tree limbs every 100 feet or so. Though it felt frustratingly slow, I made steady progress along the climb up to the highest point following flashes of pink and footprints in the snow. Again, like the weather, the necessary route-finding was out of my control and everyone encountered the same situation. In my head I knew it would have been much easier to find my way with sureness if I’d been able to keep “the fast group” in sight or had some experience with the route. 

After gaining a small amount of confidence on the slickrock, I refocused on moving forward with purpose. My competitive mindset was still in control. It was a long race and I thought I could find a rhythm heading downhill from the highest point and maybe catch a few people fading in the second half. As I began descending, I was treated with one of the most epic sights I’ve experienced while running. As the trail momentarily transitioned from slickrock to dirt, no more than 15 feet to the right of where we ran was a massive drop off. We were running on the edge of a canyon. 

I picked up speed on the downhill, thanked some people at an aid station, guessed (correctly) which way the course went at another intersection, and generally kept turning my legs over. My stomach had a few moments where it felt unsettled so I slowed and appreciated the views. The landscape was truly spectacular. I was completely surrounded by open space with big mountains off in the distance. For as far as I could see there was no signs of civilization. I loved it. Miles 18-21 the course climbed again on fire roads before reaching more slickrock. With a rough understanding of the course profile, I knew I needed to push for three or four more miles of climbing before I’d, theoretically, get an extended descent to the finish. 

The sun had thawed out the thin layer of snow and ice by the time I reach more slickrock. For this, I was thankful. Unfortunately, I was once again regularly stalled trying to discern which direction the course went. The only experience I was drawing on was my previous navigation “successes” about 15 miles earlier. I knew to look for pink ribbons as well as runners doing the 33k distance who should be becoming visible to me as well. Eventually, I caught up to a runner who had been in the front group of six and we were able to make decent progress together. In general, we’d reach a large, open section of slickrock, lose the trail, spin in a circle a few times, spread out, walk to the left, walk to the right, recite the ABC’s backwards (kidding), then one of us would say “over here” and off we’d trot. As much as I wanted to keep running, as the terrain was runnable, a number of times I went the wrong direction only to be called back towards the correct trail. We were about two and a half hours into the race, I was low on energy, and was getting irritated because it felt like I wasn’t making steady progress towards the finish. After having to come to an extended complete stop a few times, I realized that “competing” was no longer a priority. A fast time and racing people would have to take a rear seat. I shifted my outlook to appreciate the opportunity I had by simply taking in the views and experience. 

I took my time at an aid station by chugging some water and taking in extra calories to get my head back in the game. Still running with the other guy from “the fast group”, we started catching some runners who were doing the 33k. (They had started later and were doing an abbreviated course which included the last 15ish miles of ours.) This provided some relief because every now and then we were able to sight a few figures in the distance to speed up our route-finding. Many of the slickrock sections had painted, white dashes that served as a beacon in these moments of confusion. Still, there were sometimes large gaps between the dashed lines, or I’d overrun a turn and miss one, inevitably coming to a complete stop before backtracking after not seeing a line for a minute. This added mental strain was not something I had expected, but it made the event feel more like an adventure and complete experience. Problem solving on the go naturally happens in endurance events, and this was just another challenge.

Eventually, I made it to the marathon distance. I was looking forward to the fire road and being able to “zone out” my navigating brain while I descended. But there was more slickrock in store. Three or four miles more. The course took us over several slickrock sections that included a number of short but very steep climbs. Knowing that I had another hour or so of running, I took my time at anaid station, pounding two cups of Coke and some M&Ms. I knew the Coke’s sugar and caffeine would help give me one last push before I reached the fireroads. Moab is well known for off-roading and this course was a Jeep’s Disneyland. We encountered number of Jeeps out having the time of their lives, no Coke necessary. 

I gradually caught up to more of the 33k runners and we all headed towards the finish together. I soaked up the last three miles on the fireroad as I saw a paved road off in the distance for the first time in 3+ hours. A few spectators had hiked in a little ways from the finish and provided some much appreciated encouragement. A few steep switchbacks later, I ran my way across the finish line. 

Overall, this race was a blast. I can’t emphasize the beauty of the location and course enough. I would love to return at some point in the future to run it again, hopefully without snow. If nothing else, I need more time to explore. 

In the days around the race, we explored Arches, Canyonlands, and Dead Horse National Parks. All the parks were beautiful, unique, and much larger than I was anticipating. The pictures do not do this place justice. 

Massive thank you to my parents for supporting me on the weekend and tolerating a slightly sketchy hiking route we insisted on in Canyonlands National Park. 

I have a few races I’m excited around the August – October timeline but for the next few months I plan to focus on work and gaining more field experience. I gain a lot of satisfaction my work as an engineer and appreciate the balance it provides my life.

Some very cool petroglyphs (rock art) we saw after the race 

More Canyonlands

An arch forming in Canyonlands NP

Dead Horse Nat'l Park - One of the most famous views

Thanks for reading and have a great day!

David's Trail Endurance Run

For the past five years I’ve had a birthday tradition.

It started out tame. Swim 10,000 yards one year, ride 25 x 1 min HARD the next…essentially, do a “large” workout that somehow involves the number of the age I am turning. I quickly realized my addictive personality made me want to “one-up” the previous year's workout…every year. To save my 40-year-old future self a trip to the hospital, I’ve come to peace with doing a workout or event that will simply make my inevitable aging more memorable. 

Snacks on snacks

Last week I turned 27. To celebrate, I drove four and a half hours south to Mountain Home, Arkansas to run in a 50k trail running race. (David's Trail Endurance Run) Arkansas was new to me and I was a little scared when the navigation included several gravel roads! 

I successfully maneuvered myself over the dirt roads and arrived Friday afternoon with plenty of time. The "scenic" hotel I’d found sat overlooking a lake and was about a five minute drive to Rocking Chair Resort where the event would start and finish. After checking in, I scoped out the course via my preferred touring method: running. I was pumped. The trails were hilly and much more “technical” than I’d foreseen (aka you needed to watch where you put your feet, so you don't face-plant). There were roots, rocks, and small stream crossings. With the precipitation and colder weather predicted to roll in, the race was sure to be challenging but memorable! 

Race Morning

Saturday morning I woke up around 5am and set about making PB & banana toast. And, of course, coffee. Shout out to Mom and Dad for the bomb coffee thermos that doubles as a french press! After checking my phone’s weather app, I stepped outside and confirmed, it was raining…and 37 degrees! Fantastic. I then proceeded to act like a teenage girl getting dressed for school by changing my wardrobe no less than 8 times. Tights or no tights? Jacket or no jacket? Will my head get too hot in this hat? It’s a minor miracle I made it to Rocking Chair at 730am. The weather called for the rain to stick around for a couple more hours before turning to snow. 

Day before trail pictures

No more than 30 questionably sane individuals congregated under a tent near the start line. We huddled like penguins to stave off being wet for a few extra minutes before the race began. The race director quickly queued up and projected a recording of “the Asian girl singing the national anthem”. (I highly recommend watching 7-year-old Malea belt out the tune.) Not sure if it was from the rain and cold or the epic national anthem performance, but I shivered! Then we were off. 

Overall Course Map

 The 50k course began with a 7k (4.5 miles) loop which took us approximately back to the starting point. After the short loop, we would head away from Rocking Chair Resort for a 27ish mile out and back section. Jake, one of race directors, had informed me the 7k loop was the most technical part of the course. 

Another guy and I, Jeff, quickly split from the main group and began running together. I think we both wanted to warm up! After a few minutes of running, I began to relax and enjoy the twisting and turning of the trail. Jeff and I talked a bit. He was preparing for Black Canyons 100k and using this race as a stepping stone. Jeff and a few friends had driven eight hours from Texas! I volunteered that I'd had the great privilege of working  in Texas for 12 hour days in the sauna that July is. Jeff empathized and, thus, we had connected. Nevertheless, we were running a similar pace and it was very enjoyable to have company!

With the addition of the rain, I ran cautiously to avoid wiping out. While the surrounding trees provided decent shelter from the rain and wind, my clothes gradually became damp then soaked. A number of creek crossings early on ensured my feet would get to experience a similar level of moisture. I occasionally checked my watch and started taking in gels after about 30 minutes. Jeff and I soon looped back to the starting area, waved “hello”, thanked a few brave volunteers, and started out on the longer out and back section of the course. 

The trail widened a bit which allowed Jeff and I to mimic two animals naively sauntering towards Noah's Ark. While the short, punchy hills remained, the surface lacked the rocks and roots and instead included some soppy, wet moss. Coming into the Panther Bay aid station around mile 9, I’d stopped to pee and trailed Jeff by about a minute. In and out of the aid station, we ran across a highway bridge. Up ahead, Jeff ran on the left side of the road; separated from the cars by a line of bright, orange cones. Out on the bridge, there were no trees to shelter us and Mother Nature let us know we were exposed. The wind gusted and made the rain feel like pellets hitting my face. Talk about a birthday treat! I could see Jeff up ahead and ran hard to close the gap between us. By the end of the pavement, we were back running together. 

We quickly dipped back into the shelter of the trees after crossing the bridge. The subtle beauty of the Midwest trails was not lost to me. Off to the left, where the trees were thinner, I could see the water we'd just run across. The steep hills had faded to become much more rolling terrain. We ran across a few smaller county roads, occasionally crossing paths with Jake who was cheering from his car! After 30 more minutes, maybe about two hours into the race, the rain turned to snow. I guess the weather app got that part right! To me, running in snow makes everything seem peaceful, and I was loving it. 

I was feeling good and started upping my effort. I could hear Jeff behind me at certain points but footfalls gradually faded. I refilled my bottles at an aid station and pressed on. The last five miles to the far turnaround where challenging. I still felt strong, but some of the footing was far from ideal. With all the rain, and now snow, there were numerous sections of trail that had standing water. My feet were already wet, so, I ran straight through the puddles. 

Elevation profile from Strava

On my way out to the turnaround, I came to a complete stop three times. The first time I stopped was when I came to an old trolley track that was sloping downhill and suspended a few feet off the ground. I have the opposite of "mad hops" so I took my time crossing over the tracks. The second time I stopped was for crossing a small ravine. The ravine had a 10 to 15 foot drop on either side. Very steep rocks on either side were made extra slippery with the addition of the rain and snow. Several ropes with knots in them had been tied to trees on each side to help us descend and ascend the ravine. As elegant as I am, I somehow ended up with mud on my face. The third time I came to a complete stop was when I was adjusting one of my gloves and decided to eat dirt. For the most part, I was able to brake my fall with my hands. Bonus points because instead of nailing some rocks, I fell into a large puddle. After making sure I hadn’t done any serious damage, I wrung out my soaked gloves and carried on. 

The only hoop I will EVER dunk on...

The last two and a half miles to the turnaround (located at about mile 17) included two very large, very steep climbs. Thankfully, the course at this point was on dirt roads where traction was still decent. I was able to slowly granny jog my way up and over the hills. I reached the far turn around, told Jake the last section had been cruel, grabbed a few M&M’s, and trudged back up the climbs.

The snow had started to pick up and I noticed my hands were getting cold whenever I took my gloves off to eat. Even though I was thoroughly enjoying my birthday celebration, a number of miles along the section back to the trolley crossing started testing my nerves. I hadn’t noticed it as much on the way out, but a large section of the trail was off-camber and angled down towards the water. The footing was OK, but the running felt very awkward! 

I saw Jeff and a number of other runners on my way back and we all encouraged each other. Lots of people were bundled up in their rain gear like Eskimos! Eventually, I was running back across the bridge. It was epic. The snow had picked up and was being whipped up and over the bridge by the wind. It looked like I was running through a tunnel of snow. 

Driving back after the race through the snow tunnel!

 Across the bridge and back at the last aid station, I had about 5 miles left. I slammed a chocolate flavored gel and got on my way. The short, steep hills were back. But this time, everything looked different because the ground and trees were covered in snow. The white fluff was coming down so hard I struggled to keep it out of my eyes. I grinded my way up the muddy slopes and encouraged other runners. My uphill pace had significantly slowed but I refused to walk because I knew how close I was to finishing. Finally, after I’d started getting a little worried I’d missed a turn, I turned right and was back on the dirt road to the resort. Four-plus hours running, on trails, in a blizzard, what a great way to celebrate 27. 

I didn’t wait around long after finishing as the conditions were worsening and not many people were outside “hanging out”. I snapped a few terrible selfies, clambered into my car, and headed back to the hotel to regain circulation.

Terrible post-race selfie #1

Thank you to Paul and Jake for organizing this fantastic race. If you're looking for a challenging, beautiful, and environmentally friendly race in the Midwest, put this on your schedule!

Up next for me is another trail race in Utah! I'm excited to be heading to to Moab and Arches Nat'l park to run the Moab Red Hot 55k February 16th. I'll be out there with my family and looking to do some exploring and hiking after the race. So, if anyone knows of some wheelchair friendly hikes we could go on...let me know!

Thanks for reading and have a great day!

Popular Posts: Kona 2015 Vineman 70.3 Travel Craziness Edition Oceanside 70.3

Dogwood Canyon Trail Runs 2018

Part 1 to this blog can be found here

On November 9th I drove 3.5 hours to southern Missouri. The rolling hills scenery was completely new to me. Luckily, I'd watched the show “Ozarks” so I knew there would be a lake, lots of trees, and to always be on the lookout for black Escalades with tinted windows. The Dogwood Canyon Trail Races took place at Dogwood Canyon Nature Park and were organized by Bass Pro Shops. I'd signed up for the 15k/50k challenge which detailed racing a 15k (about 9 miles) trail race on Saturday followed by a 50k (about 31 miles) trail race on Sunday. The challenge of racing back to back days was appealing to me. I’m a glutton for punishment like that. My main goal was that I didn’t want to hold back in either race. I wanted to put myself in a new, challenging situation and see how I would react/suffer. Because that’s how I learn.

I drove out to Dogwood on Friday afternoon to pick up my packet. When I arrived, the park immediately reminded me of Jurassic Park. The logo appeared similar (both logos contain animals). Inside the park, there were a number of Jeeps driving on small paths, lots of trees, and a meandering stream. And just like in Jurassic Park, it was all surrounded by a very large electric fence. Kidding. There were no visible signs of dinosaurs, either. The trails in the park were all double track. Basically, Jeep trails. The general terrain in the area was very, very hilly. While the trails were less technical, you couldn’t zone out while running. There were lots of rocks, tree roots, and off-camber sections. If you imagine a Jeep lover’s fantasy trail system, that’s Dogwood.

After picking up my packet, I drove the 15 minutes to a cheap hotel. What about camping, Steve?! Turns out camping wasn’t actually available at Dogwood, and winter came last week. Temperatures were in the 20’s and 30’s. Staying warm while camping in those temperatures requires a lot of energy (and gear). Aren’t you from Minnesota?! Yes, but I’ve gotten soft over the last few years. I made the executive decision that staying in a cheap hotel would be the best option if I wanted to actually have the physical and mental capacity to race. Besides, I could bring my own food (proud to say I purchased zero food over the weekend). Also, since there was a little prize money, pending a good performance I could cover the hotel costs. 

Saturday was the 15k. Race morning I woke up at 4:30 am for the 7:30 start. I made coffee and my breakfast of a toasted peanut butter banana sandwich with extra salt. I listened to an audio book to pass some time before heading to Dogwood. The thermometer said it was 19 degrees outside. Balmy. I made it to Dogwood with plenty of time before the race start. I was slightly paranoid about having warm, dry clothes accessible quickly after the race so I ended up dropping a duffel bag of clothes in the gear check area. As we all stood in line, shivering and waiting to be unleashed on the 15k course, Melissa (race director) had a few words for us. She reminded us to be grateful that we were able to run, be outside, and to enjoy the course. Amen. A little after 7:30, we took off. 

Immediately the pace felt slow. I’d put myself in the second line of people near some guys who looked like they knew what they were doing. The pace felt casual and it didn’t seem like anyone wanted to run hard. Still, I wasn’t sure if it simply felt easy because I was rested. After a few minutes, another guy and I started to pick up the pace. Drew and I chatted a little and he told me he’d been on the course before. I was grateful to have someone around that was familiar with the trails. Then came the first stream crossing. The path we were on weaved back and forth, crossing over a frigid stream several times. We ran right through it. I was prepared for a lot worse and was very happy with how my shoes drained. I was also thankful my socks didn’t freeze to ice. The temperature was still 20 degrees. 

The progression of loving it

1.5 miles in we came to our first hill. I ran up the hill at my own pace. At the top, I looked back and couldn’t see Drew. I carried on at my own pace, a little unsure what I was doing or if I was going too hard. I completed the small loop, bombing downhill around other runners heading uphill. As I ran back away from the lodge on another trail, I had a Jeep escort. They were "locked and loaded" to protect me should any dinosaurs get too curious. 

The course was fantastic. Lots of steep, challenging uphills, a few rolling sections, and more steep downhills. I felt good. I’d warmed up since the start and my body was ready to work. I knew that running in a canyon with lots of trees around would likely throw the GPS watch's “pace” reading off. Even if the reading had been accurate, I wouldn’t have cared. I wanted to race in the moment. I pushed off the thoughts of tomorrow’s race and focused on making it to the next opening in the trail. Though I know I usually look like I’m about to run through a brick wall, my stride felt smooth. The course provided a wide variety of views. Most of the ground, including where we ran, was covered in leaves that had already fallen. At first it was a little scary running hard and not being completely confident in my foot placement. After a few miles, I learned that there wasn’t all that much variation under the leaves. There were smaller rocks that made for uneven footing, but, for the most part, I was safe looking further ahead for any larger obstacles and adjusting accordingly. 

Because it was a shorter race, I tried to run all the tangents, taking the shortest route possible no matter how steep a section was. By about 5 miles in, I had committed. I’d thrown caution to the wind and was pushing hard. After a steep downhill or two, I knew perfect legs for the next day were not in the cards. I let loose on all the downhills and charged uphill. When things got steep heading uphill, I upped my cadence and mentally imagined breathing air into my leg muscles. It felt really good to run uphill hard and not hold back. This summer I’d had some achilles issues that had taken a few months to improve. All the strength work I’d been doing had paid off and I was no longer guarding the achilles from uphill stress. (Thank you, Nathan!) 

I was running with only 1 handheld water bottle. I paced myself drinking and finished the bottle about 8 miles into the race going up the last hill. I knew the race would be about 9 miles long but I didn’t know an exact distance. I crested the hill, then had several more slow turns before a screaming downhill section. I could hear the finish line music welcoming me back. A few minutes later I crossed the line. 

Strava file here

 After the race, I stood around for a while, meeting new people and thanking the race director. I eventually got my gear check bag and changed into dry clothes and shoes. There was warm oatmeal with good topping options, fruit, and some protein balls. I’m a simple guy, and I was pumped about oatmeal. I made some new friends while eating my oatmeal and I asked for suggestions on afternoon activities in the area. It was only about 10am and I didn’t want to spend the entire day in the hotel room. After making some mental notes, I went back to the hotel. I ate some oatmeal I’d brought from home (overnight oats FTW!), ate some peanut butter toast, drank way too much coffee, packed some snacks, and headed out to explore. 

On recommendations, I drove to Lakeside Forest Wildnerness Area in Branson. It was free. There was good hiking and views. While my legs felt OK, I knew I should try not to spend a lot of time on my feet. I walked very, very slowly down a trail for 30 minutes. The Wilderness Area had a few Civil War era buildings on the land with some plaques and pictures explaining their stories. Though I will admit to falling asleep in high school history (who didn't?), it was interesting to see the buildings in person and consider how people lived nearly 100 years ago. I spent a few hours walking very, very slowly and sitting on a ridge that provided a good view. Eventually, I got my snacks from the car, ate more oatmeal (I did say I liked oatmeal…) at a picnic table in the park, then headed back to the hotel. For the rest of the evening I read or listened to an audio book and ate. I had a dehydrated meal leftover from camping, and I also made more peanut butter toast. Yes, I brought a toaster. By 7:30pm, it was plenty dark (thank you, daylight savings) and I was plenty tired. I had little trouble falling asleep by 8:30. 

I was tempted...

 

The Sunday morning wake-up and breakfast routine played out the same as the day before. I spent a few minutes loading the car up with everything from the hotel room so I could check out on my way to the race start. The frigid temps from the day before had skyrocketed to a temperature of 35 degrees. Thus, a wardrobe change was required. After a few minutes of shivering at the starting line, we were off. 

The pace immediately felt more challenging than the day before. I wasn’t sure if it was because of new people in the race, or if my legs were showing their fatigue. A few guys who I didn’t recognize from the day before started off quickly. A number of them had jackets on preventing me from seeing their bibs. I stuck with them even though I had a feeling they were all in the 25k race. 

The route was similar to the previous day. Not until about 13 miles into the race would those running the 50k go a different direction. Knowing this, I was aware that if I committed to racing someone doing the 25k to the 13 mile mark only to have them turn towards the finish, things could get ugly really quick. Once again, the first climb split things up. Me and one other guy (Mike) had made a big gap on the first hill loop. As we returned to a flat section, Mike started running hard. Much harder than I felt comfortable running for 30 more miles. I wanted to push myself but still be smart. I backed off but kept Mike in sight. After a few miles, Mike had pulled away a little more. Every time we’d arrive at a hill, I’d catch up a little and could see him in the distance. After a few more minutes of running behind Mike, I concluded that he was most likely running the 25k race. Mike was running in regular road shoes and wasn’t carrying any hydration or food that I could see. Still, I wasn’t certain, so I tried to keep him within site. If needed, I wanted to give myself the opportunity to catch him the second half of the race. 

I was able to start taking calories in much earlier than yesterday. I took this as a good sign. I started taking gels every 20-25 minutes. I’d mentally broken the race up into 3 x 10 mile sections. The first 10 miles I wanted to focus on being conservative. Especially if I felt good. I’d learned from my experiences at Twin Cities and Blue Sky, that in longer races I really need to build into my effort. While it may feel good to run hard for a few miles early on in the race, the price paid in the later miles is not worth it. A minute or two gained on the front end can turn into many more minutes lost on the back end. Trust me, I’ve been there.

With that said, it took a lot of discipline to hold back and not try running back up to Mike. As we neared 10 miles, I could see his stride had changed and appeared to be a little more labored. I caged the instinct to chase, concentrated on my own race, and focused on the confidence I’d gained from running strong the second half at Blue Sky. I wanted that feeling again. 

A good portion of Sunday's course was the same from the day before. My legs felt OK. I couldn’t push nearly as hard on the flats. Whenever I tried to extend my stride, my quads protested. Instead, I focused on taking short, efficient strides, and made sure I was regularly eating and drinking. There were a number of new hills that somehow seemed even steeper. My legs had loosened up since the start but I resisted letting go completely on the downhills. Eventually, we approached the aid station at 13 miles runners split off into different directions. As I reached the aid station, I filled up my bottles again, and asked the volunteers if Mike had turned for the finish. He had. I started out alone on a short loop all 50k runners would complete before heading back the way we'd come.

Locked and Loaded

The loop was beautiful. If Dogwood, with the Jeeps and lush trees reminded me of Jurassic Park, this loop reminded me of a safari. Again, there were Jeeps and double track trails, but instead of trees there were wide open fields with rolling hills. The grass was long and there was an occasional tree off the side of the trail. I tried to relax and focus on running “strong” the second third of the race. I concentrated on finding a rhythm running through the grass and submitted to the fact that I’d probably be alone for a while. I’d say I imagined myself as a gazelle out on the safari, but everyone knows, I am far from a gazelle. Zero lions, or people, were spotted the entire loop. I’d been doing a very good job eating and finished an entire sleeve of shot bloks during the loop. As I arrived back to the aid station, a few others had started to trickle in. I unloaded my bag drop which had my preferred nutrition and headed back the way I’d come. 

I was 18 miles in. I’d only felt weak a few times and usually was able to bounce back by taking in more calories or sipping from my bottles. As I started running again, more and more people passed going the other way. I had been looking forward to seeing other runners. We cheered each other on. I recognized a number of people and did my best to look them in the eye, give them energy, and avoid falling on my face. The combination of picking up a new set of bottles with my hydration mix and getting good energy from people had motivated me. I was able to start running a little harder. I let loose on the downhills and carried the momentum on the flats. Surprisingly, I was still feeling strong on the uphill segments. I even welcomed the inclines to give my quads a bit of a break. 

The day before, I looked at an elevation profile and counted 5 climbs after about 20 miles. Once I’d reached 20 miles, I started counting down the inclines remaining. Running on the flats I started to feel the fatigue and focused on tightening my core to stabilize my upper body. For 10 seconds I was a gazelle. I reached the final aid station, filled up one of my bottles, fist-bumped a volunteer, then headed out for the last 4 miles. I knew it was mostly downhill or flat to the finish. Only once I had made it to the dirt road did I take a look at my watch. I guessed I had somewhere between 2 and 3 miles left. We weren’t supposed to do the 1.5 mile loop that we had at the beginning so it was a straight shot to the finish. The locked and loaded Jeep rejoined me, and escorted me through the water crossings to the finish. Once I passed the start of the climb we’d done at the beginning of the race, I knew there was only 1.5 miles left. My watch said 3:25. “Holy crap!” I thought, “I could go sub 3:40!” I finished off my liquids and focused on my turnover. Finally, the lodge came into view, and I ran across the line.

Strava file here

Overall, the entire weekend was a blast. The trails were fun and the event was well organized. 

Up next for me is some recovery and planning for 2019. This winter and spring, I’m planning to focus on improving speed and durability. No, I’m not switching to running. I’ve gotten a lot of encouragement from people to step up in distance on these trail races. While that is appealing, and I plan to eventually, I still believe that I can improve my speed and durability in biking and running. Swimming, well, it is what it is. By no means do I have 15 years mapped out, but I know trail running is a long game and you can still be competitive in your late 30s and into your 40s. Variety and consistency is my style of training. If I specialize in something too much, or only do super long stuff, I will burn out and lose interest. I want to improve my Ironman marathon and open marathon as I feel I have not reached my potential in those areas. I still plan to keep one foot in trail racing but probably won't do anything longer than 50k, for now. The training required for anything longer would require more focus (and recovery time after the race) than I’m willing to give right now. 

As far as a race schedule goes, I’m planning to do some “shake and bake” action with Ernie at a few triathlons in the spring. The other races that get me excited are Pikes Peak Marathon and Ironman Wisconsin. All of this is tentative as my engineering career is my priority. If anyone has any recommendations for trail races within a day’s drive of KC, Minneapolis, Denver, or Salt Lake City please let me know. In case you can’t tell I like courses with lots of elevation change :)

Big thank you to my family and close friends. You know who you are. Life has been a ride the past the few months.  Thank you for supporting me and guiding me in the right direction.

Thanks for reading and have a great day!