|Thank you Wasatch Gods. I'm done|
Its over. On Saturday morning around 6:30 am, I suffered through my first 100 mile run by running from Kaysville Utah to Solider Hollow, finishing in 25:37 for 20th place at the Wasatch 100 Mile Endurance Run.
What an ordeal.
At 5 am we set off from Kaysville as a herd of cows slowly climbing our way up to Francis Peak. I found this section to be very frustrating as I didn't feel like it was fun running in a massive pack and I was forced to hike at the pace of the herd, despite that probably being for the best. As soon as the pack thinned out a bit more and I could actually run, I found the singletrack above to be some really quality trail. Steve and I hung together till about mile 20 around Bountiful B, and he would be shortly behind me for most of the day till his unfortunate DNF at Brighton.
The first 50 miles went extremely well, minus an incident where I accidently poured Rocktane mix all over my body to cool down instead of water, causing my entire body to become a giant sticky mess. This was just the tip of the iceberg of what stickiness was to ensue.
I pulled into Lambs Canyon at the 12 hour mark after grossly underestimating my split time to my family and pacers from the turnoff down Alexander Creek, but they were patient and realized I was not in mathematical coherency. I was happy to see Annie, Court, Nick, Izzy, my parents and Caroline, and my aunt Nancy and cousin Will. I was in great spirits and had felt solid up till then with no stomach or pain issues thus far, a true blessing.
|Rolling into Lambs. Feeling good|
|The crew at Lambs. I think I was asking for a motorcyle with this gesture|
Nick and I pulled out of Lambs and trekked up to Millcreek. I had a mild bathroom incident on the Millcreek road where I was forced to defecate right off the road and two poor women driving by looked quite horrified. Nick just laughed as he is no stranger to emergency pit stops. Unfortunately for Nick, but I guess good for me, was that I was feeling really strong at Desolation Lake and had to ditch him as I thought I may be able to get sub 24. I felt bad, but I had to be selfish.
I rolled into Brighton, mile 75, at 18 hours, giving me 6 hours to do the last marathon. Annie and the parents hadn't showed up yet so I downed hash browns, chocolate milk, and broth. Annie showed up a few minutes later and we set off, me still feeling mildly chipper in hopes of a sub 24. From Catherine Pass 3 miles later, all hell broke loose. The trails down to Ant Knolls, then Poll Line, and finally the notorious Dive and Plunge down to Pot Bottom, are the worst trails in the Wasatch. Period. I am now going to devote an entire paragraph to the Dive and Plunge ordeal.
The only people that should have to run the Dive and Plunge are murderers, rapists, and Race Directors. This section of trail is horrible not only because its at mile 80, but because the trails are a roller coaster of up and down 50 degree loose gravel filled troughs where the origins of pain, sorrow, and swearing originated. There is no childish laughter here. In the ten mile stretch from Pole Line to Pot Bottom, I developed blisters, jammed my foot causing two toenails to die, developed massive chaffage of my genitals and natal cleft due to my lack of wiping and poor aim, a 4 gu explosion on impact of one fall causing my shirt to stick to my stomach in goey mess, got a sore throat from excessive fruit and gu acid, and my headlamp started to die. Never before have I despised a trail as I had that day.
Annie was a great sport and put up with my whining and quickly deteriorating mood. We pushed but when we finally reached Pot Bottom(I was convinced it never would appear) I couldn't run at all anymore. The final 10 miles were akin to being beaten with lead pipes while being forced fed vinegar laden horse dung, and two people passed me in the final mile, but I didn't care too much. I finished, and was happy to be done.
|Brighton crew. Thanks for coming out at 11 pm!.|
|I think I was asking Annie to leave me in a trench somewhere to die.|
|The aftereffects. Lost toenails and the inability to walk|
So in retrospect, I'd like to propose to the Wasatch 100 committee to do away with the final 25 miles. The trails are horrible, everyone is miserable at that point, so lets just finish at Brighton, eat bacon and hash browns, and enjoy the fantastic journey up through 75 miles. It would be much more pleasant, and isn't that what running is all about?