Salt Flats 100 (70)

I stood in front of the Rainbow Hotel window and watched the winds blow a fierce storm of dust across the entire Wendover Valley. In the background the weather station continued to tell me audibly what my eyes confirmed visually. The winds increased and the temperatures decreased right before me. Any ideas I had in having pristine weather conditions for my first 100-miler run disappeared in a couple hours time.

It was Thursday night before the race and all the essentials had been completed. Race meeting, packet pick-up, dinner, and all the necessary check in equipment and nutrition supplies. I had gone over my checklist of things to work through at each aid station with my long time friend and crew chief for this race, Brian Burgess. Sleep came early enough and with the dawn approaching, we left the hotel and made our way to the start.

Best way to describe this course must be found in the separation of the course into various terrain features. The title of the race is deceptive. With nearly 10,000 feet of elevation gain throughout the hundred miles, the race is anything but flat. Even my hill profiles from mapping software left me greatly underestimating the course difficulty. And what the elevations profile left unchallenged the unknown factor of changing terrains more than made up for it.

The start took place on the Salt Flats with a full half marathon distance to Floating Island. I was prepared for this portion having competed on it two years prior. The steady pace was slow and consistent at 11:00 miles. I was a bit on the tired side, maybe from the week before, and as a result I simply focused on the pace.

I feel the need to add this comment on the week leading up to the race. I knew it was going to challenge me mentally, and to some degree I can say the mental aspect took more of a toll than the physical, as can be seen later. Having come off drill the weekend before, my schoolwork suffered a bit, leaving me with a 7-pager to complete the day before the race. More than that, I had a run-in with a medical professional as well as two potentially life-changing events that required full attention and two full days worth of my time. I was a bit distracted.

Add to this a situation that I support strongly but did allow for a slight change in my running routine was the noticeable absence of my biggest fan and support staff: Debbie. Before each race I get a well meaning kiss and at the end of each race I get to feel her embrace. Neither was present on this run. I missed her, plain and simple.

Thankfully, my long time friend Brian took the reins and did an exemplary job running through my checklist at each aid station. Not knowing my running needs or the nature of ultra running behind the scenes, he learned overnight what needed to be done and seeing him as often as I did felt like a warm blanket. His walking with me several times throughout the night reminded me of why he is so valuable a person to me. He is indispensable as far as friends go.

Aid station 3 took the runners off the salt flats entirely and routed us in the direction of our first hill climb. The route was gorgeous as I allowed myself the luxury of taking in the scenery. The steep grade kept my pace low but the climb was worth the view. Panoramic presentation #1. But every uphill had to have a downhill and this one allowed for my right little pinkie toe to slide benevolently beneath a pile driver as it slammed itself against the inside front my shoe. This backside of the hill was the only place where I felt some really nice temperatures too.

The next time I saw Brian was at Aid #5 where I took a little break, refueled, and prepared for the 22 mile round trip around the northern most section of the course. Here the course presented two unique sections of terrain. The first outgoing section could only be described as rock climbing, for the volleyball sized boulders and heavily rocked surface made it that much more challenging to climb yet another fantastic grade en route to aid #6, stationed at the peak. Panoramic view #2 exploded to me here and it was incredible. Stopping was mandatory only to see the arid spans of wilderness, not to enjoy the blistering cold winds or attempt to recover from the hill climb.

Departing the aid station I once again enjoyed the pounding action of the pile driver on my little toe. The drop down the valley was not long in process, yet once again an entirely new terrain feature presented itself. I suddenly found myself transported to the surface of some barren moon landscape where my feet plodded upon some tow inch thick crust of dried mud surface. Here the winds speeds increased, breaking up the fine particles of powdery mud crustiness and whipped them around my entire body. This lasted for nearly 7 miles until reaching aid station #7.

I hit my Garmin at what I thought was the 50 mile point and I had been out for twelve hours. I was proud of myself. I felt good, though cold and wind blistered, Feet were definitely hurting as the needle-like pain I experience at Across the Years came flowing back. My mental attitude at this point was good though I could tell the toll was higher than I expected on my body. At the aid station I ate some MRE hot meal something and after a thirty minute break, Brian kicked me back out.

Armed with my headlamp, I trotted off and over the next few miles enjoyed running several times. The road was agreeable to me, though headlong into the wind at this point. Throughout the day every time I stopped for even a minute I began to shiver. As the sun started to set the temperature did as well, and the coldness felt sharper too. I had been wearing my sweatpants all day, which, incidentally, were an afterthought throw-in item as I packed two days before. Not to mention the skeleton gloves Debbie threw in my bag. If it weren’t for her, I would not have had any gloves.

Aid station #8 and #9 passed by without much incident, other than at each one my stay was longer and getting back out on the course took more effort. By this time, I had to stop and stretch quite often while out on the course. Lower back, calves, hamstrings were all very unhappy with me. Guys from #8 came out and walked me in, and prior to #9 I met Emily and walked in with her, meeting up with Brian too.

And yet once again as I turned from #9 heading to #10, the terrain changed again, and my only thoughts were to get warm. This being yet another small hill climb took runner through what I can only describe as a city-sized bottle of Anti-Monkey Butt Powder being dumped all over. The fines powder poofed up around me with each step, the fine particles being illuminated in my headlamp. I didn’t even want to breathe.

Walking a mile here with Brian really helped, but once he turned back to retrieve his Jeep, the isolation of the night hit home. My mental strength had already begun to deteriorate, and this drilled holes in my resolution. My feet were stinging from what I thought were blisters that Brian taped up more than a couple times. The hills, though, really took a toll as my legs simply did not want to work properly.

At aid station #10 I was provided an opportunity to get warm and recover for some time. I was taken to an RV, owned by friends of Brian, and after removing my shoes and socks I rolled over and crashed. 0400 passed. 0430. 0500. 0600. I ended up sleeping off over three hours. Big mistake on my part. Yet I acknowledge there are times in your life when you make a decision based on all the gatherable circumstantial evidences available and simply decide. I needed the break. So I took it.

The problem was that once I got taped up again and kicked out again by Brian, station #10 had closed and I was pretty much on my own. It was 0700 and I had yet another hill climb. Brian pushed on ahead to #11 to let them know I was coming and I stepped off. Everything hurt and my energy level had been depleted. My pace for the four miles fell off sharply. It took me over an hour and a half to walk the distance, and at even the slightest downhill, an attempt at running proved to be impossible. My legs would not hold me up.

I caught up with Brian between 70-72 and made the call. Considering the next thirty miles contained more terrain features and the largest hill climb of the course, I felt that I did not have anything left to endure the final 30. Many other folks were in worse condition than I, yet to compare individuals would be misleading. My training had left me a bit short on the hills and my under-estimation of the course and weather were very amateur-like decisions. By the way, I AM an amateur endurance athlete. And with school, job, daughter, and other events shaping my life at home for Debbie’s and my future, I am ready to give my wife her husband back. For awhile.