This is a long one, so grab a couple cups of coffee and
settle in. Spoiler alert: It’s a long one because I’ve never had to run for
over 30 hours before. If you’re just looking for race beta, skim on through. I’ve
made some notes at the end for you.
I was psyched to be running with my friend Bryan Jennings
from NC. Bryan is an awesome guy, a great athlete, and someone I’ve known and
admired since the old kayaking days. Bryan and I ended up lined up pretty far
back in the field and we spent the first 7 or 8 miles in a conga line that was
moving pretty slowly up the mountain. No matter, though, it’s a 100 miler and
saving a little energy at the start was fine by me. And Bryan was cool with it as
well. We just passed the time catching up, sharing thoughts about our
motivations and friends we miss, and just generally enjoying the time to be
together. I also took the chance to pick his brain on being a good dad- since
he has a little more experience than I do in that area.
To really capture my experience at Big Horn 2018, I need to
circle back a bit. I started running in grad school for no reason, really,
other than to spend time with my friend Reeve. He and I had spent lots of time
exploring the mountains in kayaks. The luster of chasing waterfalls went away
for me after I had an accident, caught a bad bounce, and got away with a minor
warning from the powers that be. Still, I wanted to hang out with Reeve and
explore. I started following him on runs in the mountains. Through running long
distances, I got to explore all I wanted with the most likely worst possible
outcome being just a long, cold, night in the woods. Good deal. Then, I found
running 100s when I did the first Always Brothers run back in 2011. Since then,
I’ve found a great running community, started actually trying to “race” a bit,
and- most importantly- started a family. A sea of change over the last decade
brought me to the start line of Big Horn, but one constant has been a desire to
explore both nature and my own limits.
Chris, Sean, and I took off for Wyoming on Wednesday
morning. A quick pause in the race report (I know, I know I have only finished
one sentence about the actual race but bear with me) is in order to thank
Ginger for encouraging me to do Big Horn and making sure I knew that she and
Paul would be just fine while I was gone. So, thanks! I love you.
Ok, back to the race story. We landed in Billings, drove
over to Sheridan, got checked into hotel, and checked out start line for the
race. Thursday was a little course recon and the normal drop bag prep, drop off
and packet pick up.
Big Horn has a 10 am start, which is so civilized. Really, a
Friday morning start is nice. Yup, everyone has to run into the night, but only
one. And you can actually get a full night of sleep before the race. And
breakfast. Go to Bagels and Beyond. We did. Every day. That place is amazing!
The race brief was at 8 am. We heard about some course
details, hung out, and then took the shuttle to the start.
It was all very well organized in terms of transportation.
The only bummer was that it was hard to tell where the front of the pack was
because the whole field was choked in this canyon.
The first climb from the start to Dry Fork Ridge Outound
(13.5) was smooth and easy. I did develop some hot spots on both heels, which
was odd for me. I rarely have blister problems. I had made the mistake of talking about this before
the race, so I’m sure this was just karma coming at me like a spider monkey.
Other than, Karma, I’m not sure what the problem was since
the course was dry at this point, but I changed socks on the side of the trail
and just kept rolling. The weather was cool and cloudy. Not bad at all. I
chased back easily once I had changed socks since we were at the top of the
ridge and off the narrow single track. I caught up with Bryan and we cruised
into Dry Fork, grabbed food, filled bottles, and rolled on out. I was still
pretty optimistic about going sub 24 even though we lost a little time in the
conga line. I figured- hey, it’s energy in the bank.
We kept rolling along and chatting through Cow Camp (19.5)
as the weather started looking a bit sketchy. Bryan had to stop to answer nature’s
call a few minutes later, so we separated. Then, the thunder, lightning, and
hail joined the party. The hail got pretty rough for a few minutes, so I ducked
under some bushes and pulled out my jacket to keep me warm and ease the sting
of the marbles hitting my head and arms. But, I got moving quickly again
because I didn’t want to get cold or expose myself to the storm (lightning) and
longer than necessary. Getting through the meadow and Bear Camp (26.5) and down
“the wall” to Sally’s Footbridge (30) was the smart play. So, I kept moving.
The weather had already turned the trail going down the wall to a muddy, slick
mess. I ran down joking with a few people about the conditions.
I came into Footbridge (30) about 1.5 hours slower than I
was hoping. But, I had only lost a little time in the second section, and I was
sure I could make it up. Even still, I had figured a little cushion in my sub
24 pace plan and would have been stoked with 25 or even 26 hours anyway. I was
picking up Chris here, and he is always great at keeping me moving. Given the
mud situation and the developing blisters, I decided to take a little time to
get dressed for the weather that had arrived and tend to my feet. The stop was
a little extended (25 minutes or so), but time well spent. I cleaned my socks,
put on fresh clothes, and off we went.
The first 7-8 miles from Footbridge to Spring Marsh were actually
great. It just rained off and on a little. In our normal fashion, Chris and I just
kept cranking and enjoying the scenery.
There were some really fun, sketchy bridges to cross and the
footing was pretty good.
I was still SURE we’d be back at Footbridge by 2 am, and sub
24 or 25 was a real possibility. The mud didn’t return until we went through
Spring Marsh (40). Then, things got REAL. Like ,really real. The 8 miles (9 by
most counts) from Spring Marsh to the turnaround at JAWS (mile 48ish) was a
muddy slip and slide. A lot like, as Kirby said later about “the wall”, running
on Vaseline.
We actually didn’t get into JAWS until 11:30. 11:30 pm. 13.5
hours after the start. It was raining. I was cold, muddy, and hungry. So, we
took more time than I would have liked here too. The volunteers were great and
the tent was like a warm MASH unit.
I knew that sub 24 was out the window and the only way to
ensure a finish would be to get warm and dressed for the race we were having,
which was going to be impeded by mud that was not allowing much actual running.
So, we spent 30 minutes getting me into a warm base layer and dry jacket. Then,
we took off into the night.
The return from JAWS to Sally’s Footbridge was just a slog.
Every time I tried to get rolling in the muck, I fell or nearly fell. Once, I
even went headfirst into a tree. I told Chris, “I don’t have a concussion.” He
said, “well, that’s good. It wouldn’t matter anyway. You’d just have to walk out
of here with it.” I laughed. He laughed. We kept looking for chances to run and
make up some time. There weren’t many.
We came into Footbridge at 6:30 am. Let that sink in. 6.5
hours to go 18 miles. Mostly downhill. What the hell?! How is that even possible?
I don’t know if the mud created some kind of time warp or something. But that’s
what it took. And, it wasn’t like we were just giving up and slogging. I was
still trying to salvage a decent time for the race. Chris took my shoes to wash
them off and then happily handed me off to Kirby and Sean who got me cleaned
up, fed, and ready to bring this thing home.
Sean and I took off up “the wall” around 7:00. Let THAT sink
in. 6 hours slower than I’d planned. And we were only 66 miles into the race.
But, at this point I was not worried about the clock
anymore. Of course, I had come out the race hoping for the “perfect” day I
would need to run sub 24 on this course. I trained hard. I was ready. But, it
didn’t happen. I was OK with that.
The weather was the weather. The course was the course. I
had also come out wanting an adventure, wanting to get back in touch with why I
started doing these long runs/races anyway. Mother nature was giving me that
chance, I was into it. Let’s party, Mama N.
Don’t get me wrong. I was disappointed. I was cold. My feet
were shredded from the mud. It sucked. I was suffering. I actually had to wash
my bib off, so the AS captains could read it.
But it was an agreeable
suffering, which is a concept that Kirby called me one day a while ago to chat
about when he came across it in a mountaineering book. It was the good kind
tribulation. The kind where you’re doing something you love, but you are just
laid bare. You have one task and keeping up any pretense just isn’t possible.
Neither is avoiding your reality. I’m lucky to have chances like this. Most
people never do, and I think we can all benefit from that kind of self-study.
You have lots of time to think about who you are, what you do, why you do it, and if you’re really living. I
am. And, I am eternally grateful for that.
So, Sean and I charged up “the wall”—by “charge” I mean: We
dug our poles into ground and pulled ourselves up with our arms while our feet
kept slipping out from under us. The rain came and went. The mud stayed.
Averaging 30 to 35-minute miles up the mountain, I did actually start worrying
about the clock. Sean, I’m sure, was worrying too. But, he kept quiet about it
and just entertained me with crewing stories from the night.
We had fun laughing at our plight. But, inside I was
stressed. Even with hours in the bank ahead of the cut offs, they could become
a problem if we could not get back on a decent pace. I had invested way too
much time training, heart, and time away from Ginger and PT to not get a finish
at this race. I wasn’t going to let that happen. I owed it to myself, my crew,
and most importantly my family to finish.
Things went this way—pushing as hard possible and using our
poles to climb as our shoes betrayed us—for a couple of hours. Somewhere
between Bear Camp (69.5) and Cow Camp (76.5) the footing got better. Tired but
motivated, I pushed the pace to claw back some of the time we’d lost. Sean,
kept me laughing and kept laughing AT me as a I fell face down in the mud a
couple of times. Then sun even started to come out.
We came into Dry Fork Ridge Inbound (82.5) tired, but in
good spirits. We had passed a ton of people between Cow Camp and Dry Fork. But,
to be honest, I was no longer racing. And, I was very happy about it. The climb
out of the canyon, the weather, the hours and hours, and the opportunity to
reflect helped me find some real happiness in the situation. Here I was in the
beautiful mountains with one of the best friends anyone can have. Sure, we
could push it, charge over the final climb, and bomb that last 18 miles to the
finish. In spite of it all, my legs felt pretty strong. But there was always
the reality that my body could just say: ENOUGH and cramp up. The good option
was to just enjoy the journey. Sean was cool with it. So, we did.
Yes, it sucked. Yes. It was one of those times when it hurts
to walk almost as much as it hurts to run (in those cases, you should generally
just run). But, we just alternated jogging and walking as we enjoyed the views
that finally came out as the fog burned off. Sean kept me laughing and when
there was some stuff we really should run (Upper Sheep- 87.5 to Lower Sheep
92.5), we ran. But mostly, we just talked about how lucky we were (while I also
thought- a few times- that I’d be lucky when this was over ha ha ha).
At some point, Sean realized that sun was strong and the few
places we had not covered by mud were about to get fried. We had no sunscreen
with us, but we both had Chapstick. Chapstick is a pretty good substitute. Good
call, Sean.
Between Lower Sheep (92.5) and Tongue River (94.8) Bryan
came flying up from behind with Kirby on his heels pacing him. I’d last seen
Bryan as I was leaving Footbridge Outbound (30). He looked so good now. He was
running so smoothly. My spirits soared. I was so happy for him. He was
cruising. I even got motivated for a minute and gave chase. That lasted about
35 steps, and then I was happy to go back to just taking my time to get to the
finish. And that’s what we did.
Sean and I walked nearly every step of the last 5 miles on
the gravel roads to town. With 2 miles left I pulled out my phone, turned it
on, and called Ginger. We chatted for a few minutes, and I got to hear about
how things were going back home. Ginger and Paul had a big day hanging out at
Eastern Divide (congrats to everyone who ran Eastern Divide this weekend!).
Then, Sean and I strolled into town eating popsicles. It was pretty sweet.
I sauntered into the finish line gratefully accepting the
cheers of what seemed like the whole town. 33 hours and 11 minutes. 100 miles.
18,000 feet of climbing (or so). The longest it’s taken me to run one of these,
and surely the hardest I have worked to cover the distance. All totally worth
it.
Not for the buckle.
I mean It IS sweet a sweet buckle, but adversity
is a great teacher. If nothing else, it makes you grateful for the easy lives
we lead. I’m certainly ready to focus on running shorter (relatively) races for
a while (until next summer at least), but I did reconnect with my love of these
grand adventures.
Thank you, Bryan for sharing those first 22 miles and this
experience with me. I am so happy for you and proud of you.
Sean and Chris, what can I say? You guys are the most
amazing friends and crew anyone can have. I am looking forward to returning the
favor. I love you both.
Kirby, it was so fun to have you there. Thanks for taking
care of Bryan. Can’t wait to see you again.
Ginger, thank you so much for the love and support and
making it possible for me to have these experiences. I miss you and that boy
terribly when I’m gone, but I think I return from these journeys a better
husband and father. I love you!
Reeve, this is all your fault anyway, so thanks for getting
me into all this. When are you going to be dumb enough to do one of these? I.
Will. Be. There.
Things you need to
know if you’re thinking of doing Big Horn, especially if you’re from the BEAST
Coast:
- The RD and volunteers are AMAZING! The whole area supports this race. Aid stations were staffed by people from all over the region- even Montana, and they were amazing.
- Crewing is HARD at Big Horn. I only used crew at Footbridge (30/66). It’s a lot of driving to go anywhere else, and you don’t really need crew elsewhere. The volunteers will take great care of you. Take care of them by not overloading aid stations. You can get by with drop bags no problem and just have crew at Footbridge. It’s a great pacer situation to pick up and swap them there.
- This is a Hardrock qualifier for a reason. There may be (there was for me) hail, lightning, heat, cold, rain, and lots of mud. Bring all the gear, and don’t leave Footbridge (30) without lights and cold weather gear. Even if you think you’ll get to Jaws (48) before dark. I thought I was a shoe-in to get to JAWS before dark. I was on pace to do so before the mud. I didn’t. I’m glad I was prepared for the reality of what came.
- If it rains, the course will be a mess. You will lose tons of time in the mud. Run the first half smart but build yourself a cushion in case the course gets bad. Lots of folks got cut off because they were running without any cushion.
- I thought it’d be a bunch of buff single track since it was a Western Race. Without the mud, it would have been. You can’t count on that, though.
- The course is beautiful, and the climbs are long, but not too hard. The “wall” (67) leaving Footbridge Inbound was the only climb that was brutal. The rest were super fun.
- Don’t sweat the altitude. You spend most of the time in the 5-7K foot range, and it acts as a nice governor, but won’t cause most folks problems. I didn’t really feel it at all other than just going a little slower than normal at times.
Gear for those who
are interested:
- Poles. Don’t leave home without them. (Black Diamond Z poles- old aluminum ones)
- Hoka Speedgoat 2 (Shredded by the mud and in the trash at the end). In hindsight, the La Sportiva Ultra Raptor would have been a better choice.
- 7 or 8 pairs of socks (Farm to Feet and Smartwool)
- Shorts (Strider Pro)
- 2 jackets (Houdini and Salomon)
- Hat
- Ultimate direction Vest (AK Mtn Vest 2.0)
- Gloves
- More gels than I’m willing to admit publicly. Josh Starner would be amazed. Thanks to Backcountry.com for hooking me up with a care package of gels and Honey Stinger waffles. They were crucial.
Big thanks to all the folks from the Big Horn Trail Run
Crew. You guys are awesome!!!
Link to the Strava data, which is missing some time a little miles because I got behind on charging my watch twice near the end:
https://www.strava.com/activities/1643279079
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