Hellgate 100k 2020 – A VERY special year, indeed

I trained hard this year. We knew that being first time parents, Kristen and I were going to have make sacrifices and work as a team like never before in 2020...and that was before the pandemic. What an amazing, fulfilling and fun year it has been with our little man growing up right in front of our eyes. I enlisted the help of Hayden Hawks in January to elevate my running game and it has paid off in amazing ways. None of us would have expected all the craziness of the pandemic, but having a coach to bounce ideas off, tailor my training and just be accountable to has made this year of training the best I’ve had in years. As Chris Roberts mentioned a few miles into the race, maybe I’m a ‘cheater’ this year for having a coach…but if letting go of my pride and allowing someone else to take a critical look at my training to help me improve is considered cheating, I am all in.  

Photo by Ridge RUNers

So what was the goal for Goal for Hellgate 2020? To Win. 

Spoiler alert: that didn’t happen. 

Am I happy about that? Hardly. Am I excited and proud of my race? Absolutely. In 2006, the year before the iPhone 1 was released, I ran Hellgate the first time as a 19 year old Virginia Tech Sophomore and was dragged to the finish line by a conglomerate of older, wiser and stronger runners (Hello Darin Dunham!) in a time of 16:48. In 2007 I returned, an emotional train-wreck, struggling to deal with the aftermath of the campus shootings that rocked my world months earlier, and again survived the long, cold trek in 16:34. As I reflect on my years running Hellgate, I am most thankful for those first two years of struggling mightily through the dark, cold mountains because I can look back on them and know that things get better. I know now that we get stronger, our community grows around us and we get tougher. Lessons for 2020 I guess. 

As we started off at 12:01, there was a very intimate, ‘group run’ like feel as our wave of 25 individuals rapidly whittled down to a group of 8 of us who together ran off into the darkness. As usual, John, Chris and Frank were bantering, being loud, and stirring up all the dogs as their owners turned over in bed, reaching for their guns. The guys were having a contest about who would be the first to take off their Houdini jacket. I enjoyed sitting back and listening to my friends talk. I thought to myself that this is what I have missed this year, being with my people in the mountains. As this was clearly going to be a "Sissygate" year, I took a chance jumped the rocks across the creek before aid station 1. For the first time in 14 tries, I made it through without getting my feet wet. Good omen. 

Photo by Jay Proffitt

As we climbed up Petites, Chris Roberts, Michael Dubova and I took in the odd scene playing out below and behind us on the road. Rather than the usual constant stream of bobbing headlights going back as far as you could see, we saw a few lights here and there in small clumps. Sobering thoughts about why we were in this situation crept into my head. Thoughts that I had battled just a few days prior when I considered not starting the race. Shaking off those thoughts, I continued to climb with the other two who were left in our party. Focused, Chris, Dubova and I cruised through Petites and down the other side to the FS road climb to Camping Gap. As we climbed, it was clear that this was going to be a race between myself and Dubova (Sorry Chris…the writing was on the wall). We silently ran to the top and passed through the always cold and windy Camping Gap aid station. Chris led us out of the aid station and we caught him about a half mile later. Dubova put in a surge on the long descents on the Promise Land section and I held back, knowing that the tough part of this section was to come in a few miles when the grassy road transitions from 90% downhill to 90% uphill. I focused on not working too hard, but instead on running efficiently. Dubova’s headlamp would get farther away on every downhill and gradually come back to me on the uphills. 

Photo by Ridge RUNers

By the time we got to the turnoff onto single track on the side of Onion mountain, I was a few steps back of Dubova. He took off like a madman down the technical descent and I followed, losing time with every step as we approached Overstreet Falls. Climbing up to the parkway and Floyd’s Field aid station, I was happy, but not surprised that my legs were feeling great. I knew I had put in more mileage this year than ever before and my legs were in the strongest shape they had ever been in. The normal fatigue and pain I would typically be feeling at this point were nowhere to be felt. I met up with Josh, my crew chief at Floyd’s Field and he dutifully situated my pack for the next push. By the time I crossed the parkway, Dubova was nowhere to be seen, and after the aid station Michael Owen mentioned I was trailing by about 2.5 minutes. Fair enough! I dawdled a little at that aid station, but no worries, my focus for the 2020 edition of Hellgate was to crush the section from Jennings Creek to Bearwallow and I wasn’t there quite yet. I had yet to fully implement my plan and my confidence was at an all time high. 

As we rounded the one 160 degree turn on this section of the course I caught glimpse of his light, right where I thought I would see it. I knew then that he was between 2-4 minutes ahead. I realized here that he was descending like a crazy person, so all I could hope for heading into Jennings was to keep the gap as close as possible while staying relaxed and in control. As part of my bid to set a big PR this year, I had the time of day split times to each of the aid stations written on my arm starting with Jennings. First time check, I hit Jennings at 4:56, about 5 minutes faster than my previous best time to that aid station (2015). Perfect. After a quick stop with Josh, I was off to crush my second objective for the race: running fast between Jennings (mile 30'ish) and Bearwallow (mile 46'ish). The first task for this section was to run the entire climb out of Jennings, a feat I had never been able to do. This year it was not a problem. Cruising up to the FS gate at the top of the climb I checked my watch a noted that the climb took in the realm of 20 minutes. Then it was off towards Little Cove aid station and another big climb that I had never been able to run in its entirety. Again, no problem this year! Coming around the last bend in the climb before Little Cove, I mentally planned my next move: Get as close to Bearwallow as possible before the sun came up.

As I rolled into Little Cove, Horton was sitting there. He saw I was focused so he didn’t heckle me too much. He mentioned that Dubova was 5 minutes ahead and that I should chase his headlamp on the next section of long, descending in-and-outs. I told him I was feeling great and took off, PB&J’s in hand. Through the next section of runnable double track and FS road, I thought back to 2018 when Chris, John and I were in this section together, trying to run each other into the ground while heading towards Bearwallow (Spoiler, I was the one who got rocked that year). This year, I was secretly thankful to be out there by myself, able to just focus on chasing one person and running as fast as possible without distraction. I said hi to Horton’s Rock-Wedged-in-a-tree in passing as dawn began to creep into my peripheral vision and soon enough I found myself running the Devil’s Trail, headlamp still blazing. About a mile later I turned off my light and began the always-longer-than-you-think last push to Bearwallow. I saw Mike McMonagle, last years champ a hundred yards before the aid station and the words he said stuck with me the rest of the race…something along the lines of: “You guys are on pace for a special time!” 

I ran straight to my crew vehicle and was happy to see Kristen, Josh and my best friend from high school, Matt, all waiting and ready to get me set for the last quarter of the race. My 7:25am arrival time meant I was 25 minutes faster than my previous fastest arrival time to Bearwallow from my 2015, when I finished 3rd and set my PR of 11:42. I also managed to subtract 15 minutes from my previous best section split between Jennings and Bearwallow! Horton came over to tell me that Dubova had ‘gone bezerk’ on that section and I was now 13 minutes behind him despite running that section the best I ever had by a long shot. Regardless, off I went with renewed focus, ready to hit the short 6 miles to Bobblet’s Gap hard and earn some of that time back. I continued to ask more and more of my legs, charging up climbs that I had never imagined running and opening up my stride on the flats as if I were racing a 5k. My legs continued to respond. My previous best effort for this section was 1:15, and this year I arrived at Bobblet’s at a 8:32 am, splitting that section in 1:07. Seeing Josh and Gina Gilbert was a really nice and they, along with my crew got me in and out in no time. I was informed as a left that Dubova was continuing to pour it on and I was still bleeding time, despite running out of my mind up to this point. He had gained another 5+ minutes on me just in that section and was a full 19 minutes at this point! 

Photo by Ridge RUNers

As I descended away from the parkway, I reminded myself that ANYTHING could still happen and that this race was NOT over. Almost like a sign, I came upon one of Dubova’s big black mittens laying all by it’s lonesome in the middle of the trail as if telling me that yes, he was still there and within striking distance, even though things were getting increasingly one sided in this battle. Over the years, this section has become less and less a “forever section” and more and more a “RUN EVERYTHING challenge,” which is exactly how I treated it this year. Running everything that I once thought was unattainable, with every twist and turn of the trail I kept picturing seeing Dubova coming back to me. It was at this point that I truly realized I was capable of breaking 11 hours. My previous best split from Bobblet’s Gap to Day Creek was 1:28. I knew if I could get to Day Creek by 10 am, I would have a solid shot of breaking 11. This idea, along with chasing Dubova, fueled the fire and I opened up even more in the back half of this section. I counted down the 13 creek crossings with a smile on my face 😃. 

I announced my arrival to day creek with a loud whoop and a quick glance at my watch which read 9:47am! Seeing this was enough to get the adrenaline pumping. Without even stopping to properly greet my crew, I quickly grabbed a bottle of Appalachian Powerade (i.e. mountain dew) and charged up the mountain towards Black Horse Gap. Last year I had picked off John Andersen roughly 1 mile from the top, and this year I smiled big to myself as I ran hard past that same spot. The Three Amigos (Roberts, Anderson and Chang) were not meant to be this year, and Anderson and Roberts were left to their own bromantic battle on the course. I tipped my hat to the Black Horse Tavern ruins as tradition requires and set my sights squarely on the parkway gate. At this point a sub-11 finish was “in the bag,” though as I’ve learned in the past, nothing is in the bag until you are 100% finished. I set my sights on beating Ryan Paavola’s 2014 course record, which at the time I remembered as being 10:41. As I crested the top, I had less than 25 minutes to get to the finish line to break what I thought was the record. I also thought, foolishly, that if I finished under the course record, I MUST be close to Dubova. No one would be able to completely obliterate the course record, right? I ran as hard as I could on down the mountain and, for the first time in the last 10+ hours, my legs started to talk to me. Despite the deep fatigue in my quads, I cranked up my turnover in an attempt to pick up the pace. 

As I approached the final gate, the location where I broke my ankle during Hellgate 2018, I knew I would need to crank out a sub 7 mile to get under 10:41. I asked everything from my body in the last 1.5 miles. Even when it became clear I was going to finish over 10:41, I pressed forward with acceptance so that I could enjoy the last few hundred meters and soak in the effort that brought me to this point. I crossed the finish line with a final time of 10:42:20, and shortly there-after, heard someone yell that I was under the old course record. Despite my thinking that the course record was 10:41, it was actually 10:45! What a crazy turn of events! 

Photo by Ridge RUNers

Photo by Jay Proffitt

Photo by Jay Proffitt

I looked over to Horton and Dubova and asked the question that had been with me for a long time. How fast had he ACTUALLY run? I was floored and in awe to hear that Dubova finished in 10:16! I couldn’t do anything but pick my jaw off the floor and try to wrap my head around what I had just been a part of. Two guys going under the previous course record with first-place crushing the previous record by 30 minutes. Now THAT IS HELLGATE SPECIAL. 

Photo by Jay Proffitt

To Hellgate, thank you for allowing me to test myself on your relentless climbs and soul crushing rocks through my teens, 20s and now 30s. You have seen me through some of my toughest years and also through times of great joy. Just when I think that each year couldn’t be more special or memorable than the last, Hellgate proves me wrong. Here I am 14 finishes later and this one was SPECIAL. Special like the first time I arrived at Camp Bethel in 2006, special like finishing the Beast Series in 2014, or under a blanket of snow in 2017 and special like seeing Kristen 36-weeks pregnant waiting at the finish line last year. Here’s to many more special finishes in the years to come! 

To DOCTOR David Horton, thank you for always believing in me, for pushing me out of my comfort zone and mentoring me as a person and runner these past 15 years. Thank you for all that you do to organize this VERY special race. 

I’m coming for you #15

Crew chief extraordinaire Josh!

Bigfoot 200: Part 2

Around 1:30 am, we rolled into the Chain of Lakes AS (Mile 140.8). If you are keeping track, this is about 40 hours and 30 minutes into the race and I was ready for another nap. The crew had learned from my first sleep break at Elk pass that I needed a little more room in the SUV to sleep well and they had everything set up perfectly. I talked briefly with the crew, telling them how difficult the last section had been, and then hunkered down for 2.5 hours of sleep. Kirby had talked me down from wanting 3 hours of rest, but not by much. I zonked out immediately in the warm vehicle while Kirby, wet and cold, climbed into a tent with Rudy to pass out for a little while. When I woke up 2.5 hours later, I had warm clothes, dry shoes and a filled pack ready for me thanks to the amazing work of my crew. They even had breakfast burritos and coffee prepared!

When I got the courage to step outside, I immediately started shivering again and knew it was time to get moving. Rudy was tasked with taking me from here to Twin Sisters AS which was mile 178. We had a 30 mile stretch to cover with only 1 aid station and no crew access, and knew that we were in for a long day before we would see the familiar faces and comfort of the crew again. As Rudy and I prepared to leave Chain of Lakes AS, I had the sudden urge to check on Todd Thomas who had been behind coming into this aid station. I had been worried about him since Lewis River AS because of how bad his feet had been and the cold. I found his crew before leaving the aid station and they assured me that he was doing well and in fact, had just left the aid station a few minutes ago. They encouraged me to go catch him so we could run together.

The River

And I will sail my vessel
'Til the river runs dry
Like a bird upon the wind
These waters are my sky
I'll never reach my destination
If I never try
So I will sail my vessel
'Til the river runs dry

Rudy and I took off into night. Thankfully it was around 4:30 am by the time we got moving again, so we had just a couple hours of dark before the sun would rise. Rudy informed me that the next stretch would include 3 creek crossings and a river crossing. “Wow, that’s a lot of water crossings,” I thought to myself as we proceeded slowly in the dark.  Sure enough, we soon came upon our first of several water crossings. This first one had a rope to assist with the crossing, which was definitely helpful as the current was swift and strong. Rudy went first as I hesitated, unsure of my confidence in my ability to stay upright. The last thing I wanted right now was to fall and get soaked while it was still dark and cold outside. Thankfully I made it across unscathed and the next several creeks were pretty tame. Soon enough the sun began to rise and we found ourselves socked in by a thick fog. During the next several miles, I got into a good groove and was able to run well. The trails reminded me of home and I kept imagining myself running along Poverty Creek in the Jefferson National Forest right by my house. This successfully distracted me for a while as Rudy and I ran and hiked in relative silence. As the sun rose higher and the fog began burning off, it once again became apparent that we were running through an incredibly beautiful place! We were treated so some incredible sweeping views of the forest and mountains.

Eventually we arrived at the Mighty Cispus River (as we had been affectionately calling it) and made out way across the gently flowing, but extremely cold water. I thought the cold water would feel good on my aching feet but in reality, it made them hurt worse. By the time we made it across the wide river, my feet were hurting so badly from the cold that I just bend over and let out a sad whimper, cursing the cold water. I knew I looked pathetic but at least no one but Rudy was there to witness it. Rudy cheerfully informed me that up next was a 4-mile climb to the top of Elk Peak with roughly 3,000ft of climbing. Yikes. I knew that a 4-mile climb would take a LONG time for me at the pace I was moving. “There’s nothing to do but keep going,” I thought.  At this point I also began to feel a bit nauseated, so I pulled out my med kit and ate some Tums and GinGins. I knew that the climb would be a good time to settle my stomach and was careful what I ate over the next stretch. I tried to take in calories in smaller quantities to keep my stomach from getting angrier.

Crossing the Cispus River

At one point, Rudy decided to experiment with one of the Muir Energy Gels that he had picked up at an aid station. We didn’t really know what was in it, but he said it tasted good. It soon became evident, however, that there must have been A LOT of caffeine in that gel. Rudy’s demeanor changed dramatically over the next 10-15 minutes as he dragged me up that mountain while chatting away like as if he was out for an afternoon jog. This was a much-welcomed jolt of energy for us both and we laughed about it later as we neared the top of the climb. As we approached the top, Rudy asked me what my favorite song was. I tried to sing “The River” by Garth Brooks to him, but I was too weary and out of breath to do it justice so I played it for him on my phone instead. It’s a song about dreams, life, taking risks and letting God be captain. It’s been my favorite song since high school and it seemed very relevant in the midst of this adventure we were undertaking. As we approached the short out and back that signaled the top of Elk peak, we were surprised to see Andy Pearson and his pacer AGAIN. This type of situation is seemingly unique to 200’s, where competitors seem to pass each other while sleeping more so than while running (I had passed Andy prior to Chain of Lakes (mile 140) only for him to leave that same aid station before me). I had no idea he was in front of me and for a second I thought I was going crazy! We reached Elk Peak and took in some sweet views of Mount Rainier! I didn’t linger too long at the top, but as I headed down I looked back to see Rudy just standing there. I later found out that the high point on Elk Peak was one of the only places on the course with cell service, and Rudy was taking advantage of that precious opportunity to regain momentary access to the rest of the world.

Elk Peak

We descended rapidly from there to the Klickitat AS (Mile 158). Here I ate the world’s best spaghetti, let my feet dry out for a few minutes and put on dry socks. I was very thankful that my crew had thought ahead about the water crossings and had stuffed a spare pair of socks in my pack without me even realizing it (they told Rudy, knowing that I would forget). It’s the small things that make a huge difference in a race like Bigfoot. By this point, it was somewhere around late morning and we prepared ourselves for the next stretch of trail in route to the Twin Sisters AS. This was going to be the longest stretch without aid on the entire course, nearly 20 miles.

Candice, the RD, described this section as follows: “Bushwhacking, tree hurdling, exposure and lots of technical make this section notorious and especially tough. Stay positive and don’t let the downed logs and rough trail mess with your spirits.” She was right, this section was HARD. Several miles after Klickitat I was hit by the first of several bouts of severe fatigue. I felt woozy and told Rudy that I had to sit down for a minute. I asked him to let me sleep for 1.5 minutes. Boom. I was out like a light and miraculously woke myself up with 10 seconds to spare! On we went marching through the thick undergrowth, over a ton of blown downs and up some of the steepest trails I have ever traversed. Some parts of this section were runnable and I did my best to move quickly, but ultimately it was an extremely mentally challenging section. We topped out on a ridge after about 8-10 miles and were treated to spectacular views of Mount Adams. After admiring the view, I proceeded to  immediately sit down and take another nap, this time 3-minutes, and again miraculously waking myself up on my own.

The view of Mt. Adams

Rudy was exceedingly patient with me as I stumbled along though the loose, gravely terrain and yet, found ways to not let me dawdle too much. He would not let me use the terrain or my fatigue as an excuse to stop moving forward. Whenever I would start getting negative, he would somehow drag me out of that dark place. We came across the St. John lake, a beautiful, peaceful, isolated lake where we stopped to refill our water and enjoy the scenery for a couple of minutes. It was awesome. We eventually made it to the next water source several miles later, Jackpot lake, where I was expecting to have another serene experience. 

Wrong. As soon as we stopped to get water we were attacked by the world’s most aggressive, angry, swarming devil mosquitos. Never in my life had I experienced mosquitos like that! We quickly took off, hoping to leave them behind as we swatted in vain. Every bit of exposed skin was fair game and unfortunately, I was not moving fast enough to outrun them. Rudy was also getting hammered and eventually he took off up the mountain ahead of me so that he could outrun the insanity of mosquitoes. The flip side of getting attacked for what felt like “hours” was that it made me move a heck of a lot faster. It made the time seemingly pass more quickly as we neared the 2.8 mile out stretch that descended into the Twin Sisters Aid station. Once we saw the sign sending us off onto the 2.8 mile and back to Twin Sisters Aid AS we knew we just needed to cruise on in. This was probably the most runnable section we had been on in the last 30 miles! As we neared the aid station, we ran into Todd Thomas and his pacer Steve Higgins heading towards us. To my surprise, Todd stopped completely to inform us that we were sitting in 2^nd and 3^rd place! The last time I had heard about out placings, I had been somewhere between 5^th and 6^th so it was quite a shock to hear that we had moved up so much. He said that once of the top guys had gotten off course and we were both in a podium spot…for now. We gave each other a slp on the back and headed off in opposite directions. At that moment I was so proud of how we were doing…and it felt so good that it was both Todd and I together doing this thing. Even though we hadn’t run a single step of the race together, we were out there, challenging ourselves, hurting and overcoming obstacles together…climbing the same mountains and tackling the same rough, wild terrain.

Rudy and I ran into Twin Sister AS (mile 177.5) at around 5:08pm. Yep, it had taken us 11.5 hours to traverse the last 37 miles. The whole gang was there and EXCITED. We could smell the barn now and they were excited that Todd was barely a mile ahead of me at this point. I had started to develop some foot and achilles pain in the last 5 hours so I decided to give my feet a couple minutes to breath and change to shoes with my Superfeet insoles in them. I ate a veggie burger while the crew resupplied me and the medic went to town on my feet. The medic kept telling me how amazing my feet looked compared to Todd’s and that my feet were the least torn up feet he had ever see this far into a race. Needless to say I didn’t really care at this point because my feet were aching and my legs were feeling pretty shot as well. Kristen was ready to roll so we said bye and took off back up the trail onto the second to last leg of this journey.

How Your Love Makes Me Feel

It's like just before dark
Jump in the car
Buy an ice cream
And see how far we can drive before it melts, kind of feelin'
There's a cow in the road
And you swerve to the left
Fate skips a beat and it scares you to death
And you laugh until you cry
That's how your love makes me feel inside

Kristen and I left Twin Sisters AS at around 5:20pm. We had about 16 miles to go and the description of this section made it seem like it MIGHT be runnable downhill. We climbed back towards the main trail and came across a very tired looking Andy Pearson and pacer near the turn off, meaning he was nearly 6 miles behind us. At that point I thought, “Ok… I just need to keep it together in these last 30 miles and I will be on the podium.” While I knew this was definitely doable, nothing in a race like this is a given. We climbed up to Pompeii Peak as the sun was getting ready to set, which was hazy from all the wildfires in the PNW and Canada, and then began our long descent to the next aid station. We quickly learned what the description meant when it said the “trail becomes overgrown with downed trees about 2 miles before Pompey Peak and afterward as well.”

Pompeii Peak

It quickly got crazy with giant downed trees every 50-100 ft. Several times there were multiple trees down together making it difficult to know even where to climb over. With my limited mental capacity at this point, I was making some poor decisions and Kristen definitely had to save my butt a few times from getting stuck between trees or falling off the edge of the mountain. I wanted to move quickly, but it was frustrating because whenever we thought there was an end to the downed trees, another one would come into view. I remember telling myself, “at least its downhill.” Kristen and I ended up just trying to have fun finding creative ways to crawl through, scramble over and generally parkour ourselves through this section. It was a lesson in patience and smiling in the face of frustrating circumstances. Another thing I kept telling myself was that no matter how difficult and challenging this section was, there were 150 other racers behind me, traversing the same terrain, hitting highs and lows and tackling the exact same things I had struggled through earlier. I owed it to them to not mentally fall apart now when I was hours to days closer to the finish line than them.

We finally popped out on an old logging road which had been abandoned and turned into a trial. This trail reminded me so much of some of the trails I ran last October at the WV Trilogy (side not: Incredible running event. Do it.) I find it fascinating to see how the forest takes back what was once its own. It is perfectly shown with these old logging roads as you can see the forest start taking over the edges and creeping back inwards, slowly enclosing the trail under its canopy. We zig zagged along this trail’s gentle grade, intermittently dodging a low branch or tripping on a hidden rock but overall moving steady. As dusk settled in, I cranked up the music from my phone, partially to keep me awake and partially to alert any animals in the vicinity that we were coming through. I had started having small hallucinations at this point and it was comforting to have music going, knowing that I didn’t have to talk loud or yell to alert them of my presence.  I would see a shadow off to the side and think I saw an animal or person, only to shake my head and realize that it was merely a bush. I would see a dark object ahead and think it was a bear, only to turn out to be a log. Kristen did an amazing job at distracting me by telling me about the adventures that the crew had been having throughout the race. She told me how incredible her view had been from her hammock at the Twin Sisters aid station, and she told me stories of the mishaps the crew had over the last few days. It made me feel so happy to know that the crew was doing well and taking care of each other.

As we neared the next aid station, we started hitting a few washes, where the trail was being eaten away by creeks, leaving big cliffs off to one side. All I would see would be a reflector straight ahead and before I knew it, Kristen would be motioning me to turn quickly to go around the wash and not right through it off the cliff. She physically had to manhandle me away from running off the edge on more than one occasion. Sudden sharp turns were clearly not my forte at this point in the race. Several miles later, we found the mysterious “surprise” that we had been promised at the pre-race meeting: tequilla shots sitting on a tiny table in the middle of the woods. We got a good laugh at that, both knowing that I would literally either fall asleep or fall off a cliff if I partook. A few minutes later we saw the glow of the next, and LAST aid station. We heard the crew yelling and the aid station volunteers enthusiastically hollering. It was so good knowing that this was the last stop before the finish.

Kristen and I ran into the Owen Creek AS (Mile 193.5) at 9:45 pm. In my mind I was hoping for chill, sort of prologue type of aid stop. I guess I was hoping it would be a “Welcome to the last aid station! Let’s get to that finish line” sort of experience.  Wrong. Apparently, Todd Thomas had showed up not long before me and while looking ok, had been struggling a little bit with the sleep deprivation. As we ran into the aid station, it became clear that the crew was determined to get me in and out of that aid station FAST in order to start the chase. The first thing Rudy said to me was, “Todd left 10 minutes ago. You can get him.” I was mentally torn by this revelation. I knew I was ultimately in a foot race and that this is what I was signed up to do but MAN I WAS TIRED. So much of me wanted to just sit and be happy with the fact I was sitting in third place but this was a RACE. In the moment I didn’t know what to think. I was sitting in a chair with foot and drink being constantly handed to me in a blur. Meanwhile Rudy and Kirby were rummaging through my pack, determined to see how much they could lighten the load for the last 12 miles. I saw plastic bags, article of clothing, old wrappers, gels and random gear I had lugged for miles and miles all being emptied out of the pack that had been on my back for the last 190+ miles. This felt more like a 50k or 50 miler aid station than an aid station 60 hours into a 200-mile race. But this was a RACE. “Time to race. Time to race. Time to race,” I kept muttering to myself. I thought about Dr. Horton at mile 80 of the 2014 Grindstone 100 when he yelled at me, “NOW ITS TIME TO GO CHANG. NOW IT’S TIME TO START HURTING!” I switched back into my Altra Olympus shoes, which had several large gashes in both sides from the lava fields of Mount St. Helens that seemed like an eternity ago. 

From Now On

From now on!

These eyes will not be blinded by the lights!

From now on!

What's waited till tomorrow starts tonight!
It starts tonight!
Let this promise in me start
Like an anthem in my heart
From now on!
From now on!
From now on!

And we will come back home
And we will come back home
Home again!

While this stop seemed like it lasted quite a while, the crew actually got me in and out in 8 minutes! I left Owen’s Creek a just before 10pm and was headed for home with Josh, who had been faithfully leading the crew around the backcountry for the last three days. As I walked out of the aid station, I was handed the world’s largest burrito/taco that felt as if it weighed 5 lbs. I literally turned to someone and said, “What IS this?” to which Kristen replied,” JUST EAT IT” as Josh and I walked off into the darkness. I attempted to shovel in as much of the burrito as I could, but after about 5 minutes I gave up and tossed the rest into the woods. We got back to our mission of running the last 13 miles hard in an effort to catch Todd. At this point, my mental capacity for running hard was shot and I was able to hold a ‘hard effort’ for only minutes at a time, maybe less.  It had been so long since I was capable of sustaining a running pace due to rough nature of the trail and it was really hard changing modes from run/hike/crawl to JUST RUN. This last section was all road and I was determined not to walk it in. As we descended the dark road, I only wanted to see two things: Todd’s headlamp or the lights from the town of Randle. As we ran, I kept looking at my watch and made a silent agreement with myself that I would try and sustain a sub 13-minute mile pace, which at that point was HAULING! In order to do that I had to really focus and I fell pretty quiet for a while. I hadn’t really imagined the end of this race being an actual race but there we were, in a footrace. I had been in this situation so many times before at other races, either being chased or chasing someone on a long descend back into civilization that this felt like de ja vu.

Each time we rounded a corner, I strained my eyes to see if I saw any bobbing headlamps or bright lights that looked like a town, but over and over again I was met by mere darkness. I started to really get demoralized at this point. My legs were aching, my left achilles felt like it was about to explode and all I wanted to do was stop. I was mentally tired of forward motion. Josh did his best to keep me going, pulling out all the pacer tricks he could think of, but I was getting to the end of my rope. Every time I tried to pull myself out of the dark hole, it seemed like I would fall right back in. I knew that this type of feeling was probably inevitable at some point and I was actually thankful it hadn’t happened earlier in the race. I was SO CLOSE to the end. I found myself running off the road to whichever direction to road was cambered to. My body was so used to running with the flow of the single-track trail that I found myself unable to fight the downslope of the edge of the road. Josh kept gently nudging me back away from the edge of the ditch while at the same time not letting me run out into the middle of the open road since it was and open course and we were passed by several car going 50+MPH. I kept thinking to myself, “This race is never going to end!” Finally, after struggling through several tough miles, we hit a few very flat sections of road meaning we were getting close. We eventually crossed the big metal bridge across the Cowlitz river and I knew we were almost there. Josh did an awesome job making sure I didn’t get run over while crossing Hwy 12, and we made our way down a back road towards the finish line at White Pass High School.

About a half mile away from the school I saw 3 headlamps heading towards us. Josh happily said, “there’s your crew, here to run you in” and I was overcome by just how incredible it was to be surrounded by such amazing people who had spent 60+ hours taking care of me. They were the reason I was about to cross the finish of this amazingly tough race. We ran in towards the high school and I turned onto the track to the sound of cheers and cowbells. 400 meters to go. “Soak it in,” I thought to myself. Running stride for stride with my beautiful wife, we rounded the track. I closed my eyes as we ran and just listened to the rhythmic sound of my breathing, my footsteps and my heart pounding. I smiled even more than I already was when we rounded the last turn and I locked my eyes on the purple Destination Trail finish arch. Behind it were cheering volunteers, Todd plus his crew, Candice the phenomenal RD and my wonderful crew. It was past 1am and all these folks were out here to see me finish. It was humbling.

Crossing the line, hand in hand with Kristen, our arms raised, felt about as good as one could imagine. The culmination of months of training, planning and logistics, coupled with 63 hours and 49 minutes of racing had led us to this point. I hugged each of my crew and kept thinking to myself how lucky I was to have these people in my life: 

Kristen who it my rock, my selfless, caring wife who stands beside me through all these crazy adventures;

Rudy, the longtime friend who taught me how to truly fall in love with the long distances;

Kirby, the man who truly sets an example for me that I hope I can follow in my own life as a husband, father and friend;

Josh, that person in my life that I can count on to be there no matter how little or big the adventure

I was, and still am, truly humbled by these people.

After my time with my crew, I got a big hug from Todd Thomas, the crazy man who somehow got me to do this race. He had an incredible race and finished about 35 minutes before me. I also spoke with Candice the RD and told her how I was in awe of how well this race was organized and executed. Eventually we all piled into the Bigfoot mobile, as I affectionately called our Ford Expedition, and drove to the hotel that the crew had smartly secured when they realized that I was going to finish nearly 10 hours earlier than I had anticipated.

After cleaning up, I gingerly climbed into bed and laid there, wide awake, too excited to sleep and too tired to move. I tried to wrap my head around the last 3 days but couldn’t. I just laid there while everyone else passed out from exhaustion. Bigfoot 200 was a wrap…and what an adventure it was.

Stats:

Distance run: 208.5 miles (2 added on to the original 206 miles due to getting lost)

Elevation: 43,000 ft

Hours slept: 3.5

Distance driven by crew: 528 miles

Hours driven by crew: 22

Distances run by 4 pacers: 162 miles

So now what?

I found a few days after finishing Bigfoot that I had been selected in the HURT 100 lottery, a race that I have been trying to get into for over 6 years! Next up we’re heading to Hawaii in January so that I can tackle 100 miles in the Jungle! But right now, it’s all about rest, recovery and reflecting on the Bigfoot 200 journey. 

Bigfoot 200: Part 1

Prelude:

3-4 years ago, when I found out that someone was putting on 200 mile races, I immediately told myself, “Heck no. Only a crazy person would do that.” At that point I had run a couple 100 milers and had no desire to even think about doubling that. Fast forward a couple years to Thanksgiving of 2017 and I was contemplating my race schedule for 2018. Clearly I had Western States and Hardrock on my radar, but the chances of me getting in were slim. That’s when the idea of doing a 200 crept into my mind. The idea kept eating at me until I spoke with Kristen who pretty much gave me the green light (though she was not exactly enthused about it either). After failing to get into any of the lotteries, I went ahead and signed up for the Bigfoot 200!

Why Bigfoot? 

After a little research and talking with friends, the common theme I heard was that Bigfoot was the hardest, but also most beautiful of the 200s that were currently being put on. It provides a tour of backcountry Washington state while testing you (and your crew) in so many ways.

Training: 

One of the first questions I got this past year when people found out I was training for a 200 miler was, “How do you even train for something like that?” and my answer would always be the same, “I am not sure… but I guess it just involves me running a lot.”  This pretty much sums up my spring and summer training: trying to run as much and as often as possible. There was a twist though. At the end of April some friends and I ran across the Great Smokey Mountain National Park on the Appalachian trail (also known as SCAR, or the Smokies Challenge Adventure Run) which was 70+ miles and took us just under 20 hours to complete. On one hand this was an excellent training run, but the other thing this epic run did was to cause some doubt to creep into my mind. I thought, “This was HARD. How am I going to double this plus add another 60 miles?!?!” I got into a little funk after that, getting really worried that I was not training hard enough and getting a little anxious about that. By June, I had turned a corner and realized that if I was going to even be able to give Bigfoot a shot, I would need to stop worrying about my training, enjoy the journey and get to the start line happy and healthy. That became my training mantra for the rest of the summer: Happy and Healthy.

Meet the Crew
Rudy- Former Ultra VT teammate and VT alumni, currently residing in Utah, working for Petzel and training for the Wasach 100. Rudy is so incredibly experienced in both racing and pacing. He paced me to an amazing race at the Bear 100 in 2016. He is my go-to pacer for races that I am scared of doing. Rudy was penciled to pace me for nearly 60 miles.

Kirby- Trail friend from Blacksburg now residing in Spokane, WA. With Kirby’s close proximity to the course and experience on trails, he was an obvious choice! Kirby has an incredible, positive attitude with an infectious enthusiasm for being outside. He knows how to be outside doing difficult things in all sorts of challenging situations so I knew I would be in good hands with him pacing nearly 50 miles.

Josh- The crew chief and logistical extraordinaire, Josh has been an amazing crew chief for several of my races and he knows how I run better than almost anyone. He is an expert at ensuring the crew gets to where they need to be, when they need to be there. He has even created a pace model based on data from my previous races that predicts my overall finish time, as well as when I would arrive at each aid station. He is the MAN when it comes to logistics, and with a race of this magnitude, you need a logistics guy.

Kristen- the wife, an obvious choice I guess :) She delegated herself to being in charge of keeping me and the crew well fueled, taking pictures, social media updates, and massages. Staying up all night and car camping are not exactly her strengths, so I knew the experience would “stretch” her, but she was still quite excited for endeavor as a whole! She knows how to make me smile and laugh but believe me, she also knows how to crack the whip if I am not doing what I need to be doing during races. At aid stations, she usually is the on saying, “HURRY UP, GET OUT OF HERE!”

Pre-race:

Kristen, Josh and I flew into Seattle on Wednesday, August 8^th, then met up with Kirby who drove in from Spokane. The next morning we picked up my final crew member, Rudy, and made our way to Randle, where the race finish and race headquarters were. After the race briefing we relaxed some more and drove to our AirBnB for the night. The next morning we drove to the Sno-Park at Marble Mountain in Cougar Washington for the race start on Friday, August 10th. My expert crew helped me prepare and finalize my gear and then we waited. After our ‘Class of 2018’ photo’ and at 9am sharp, Candice Burt, the race director, sent us steaming up the mountain to start our 206.6 mile journey.

Ole Ole Feeling HOT HOT HOT

Ole ole - ole ole, ole ole - ole ole

Feeling hot hot hot, feeling hot hot hot

The first 46 miles or so of the race featured one thing: Mount Saint Helens. This volcano erupted dramatically in 1980 and decimated the surrounding landscape in the process. We started by running up towards the volcano from the south, clearing the tree line and running directly into fields of razor sharp lava rock. As we hopped from rock to rock, there wasn’t a lot of running going on. Every now and then a rock would shift under you, sending your whole body flying one direction or another. The course markings are affectionately called ‘dragons’ and they were everywhere. This was by far the best marked course I had ever seen.  

We descended to the first aid station Blue Lake (Mile 12.2) and were told that there was a lost hiker out on the mountain. The person had apparently gone hiking in flip flops and without water and got lost. They had been lost for over a day and they were asking us runners to keep an eye out for him (he was eventually rescued after 6 days in the wilderness surviving of berries and bees).

This next section was full of incredible close of views of Mt. St. Helens. Overall it just made you feel so tiny compared to this giant volcano. One of the differences between 100 milers and 200 milers that was evident immediately was the distance between aid stations. The distance between second aid station (Blue Lake) and third aid station (Windy Ridge) was a whopping 18 miles with very few water sources. You had to plan ahead when to get water and how much to carry or filter. Most of this section was dry and exposed and consequently many people ran out of water and became dehydrated early in the race. There was a section where you had to use a rope to descend down a river gorge to the Toutle river and back out the other side. My only goal during this ‘first’ section was to get in a rhythm and stay calm. That worked well until I got stung by a yellow jacket at mile 11! After initially freaking out, I tried to settle into an easy pace, but kept getting paranoid about running into another yellow jacket, and subsequently kept speeding up past any section of forest that seemed like it could house a nest (a.k.a. I started running faster than initially planned). This was also the only section of the race that I was able to spend time with other racers. I had the opportunity to meet Trevor Baine, who has run Moab 240, and running with him for several miles early on helped to calm my nerves. I also ran with the eventual race winner, Wes, for several miles in the blast zone. I was amazed at how steady he was running and enjoyed trying to stay close to him since he had completed Bigfoot before.

After traversing the western face of the Mt. St. Helens, I started the out and back climb up to Windy Ridge AS. When I arrived there with Wes, the AS workers asked if we were the first two 200 milers and we both shrugged because in the mass of runners from the 4 different events we honestly had no idea. Down the mountain I went in awe of the sweeping views of Mt. Adams and Mt. St. Helens. I ran by a few large lakes which were still filled with logs from the eruption 38 years ago. Then I started to climb up towards Johnston Ridge Observatory. Around this time, I realized that I was not peeing regularly and when I did, it was very dark. I guess that subconsciously I had stopped drinking much in an effort to conserve my water while I was in the long, dry stretch between Blue Lake and Windy Ridge and consequently was becoming dehydrated. I noticed that my heart rate had started to increase and I could feel my heart pounding between my ears. All this made me pause to figure out how not to dig myself into a deeper hole. The long climb up to the Johnston Ridge Observatory proved to be an excellent opportunity to tone down my pace, drink tons of water and spend a couple extra minutes in the shade and by the time I arrived at the Johnston Ridge Observatory AS (mile 40) I was feeling much better from a hydration perspective. Here I saw my incredible crew for the first time. They quickly set to work refilling my pack and filling my bandana with ice and  then sent me on my way.  I wanted to linger a little longer to catch up with them but it became very clear that they wanted me to keep moving. 

I left Johnston Ridge just before 5pm, meaning I had been running for just under 8 hours at this point. The next section was a short 6 miles and all downhill so I just let it flow. Again, sweeping views of Mount St. Helens filled the horizon as the sun started dipping down towards the west. I arrived a Coldwater Lake (mile 46.5) at 6:05 PM feeling great! Here I ate my first big meal, and changed clothes, socks and shoes in preparation for the night. This was the first time I really looked at my shoes and realized that the volcanic rock had completely shredded  BOTH sides of the new pair of Altra Olympus I had started in. I also picked up Rudy as a pacer, who was going to take me through the night in running the next 30 miles.

Moving Forward

My eyes are open,
My heart is beating,
My lungs are full,
And my body's breathing.
I'm moving forward.
I found my freedom.
I found the life that gave me reason to live.

Rudy and I left Coldwater lake to the cheers of the AS workers and crew, and we both took a deep breath knowing that this was the start of ‘part 2’ of the race. The part where I was going to have a pacer the entire time and where the real race began. We ran around the beautiful Coldwater Lake as the sun began to settle behind the mountains. It was an incredibly serene and peaceful scene and I was struck by how lucky we were to be out there, enjoying these beautiful trails. We caught glimpse of a runner in front of us and without saying a word, took chase.  After a mile or two we were able to catch and pass this runner and then began our big climb up towards Mt. Margaret, the highpoint of the race. Candice had told us that there was still a little snow up near the peak and I was excited to see it. As the sun set to the west and we chased it up the mountain, Rudy and I were treated to an amazing sunset. We joked about how many more of those we would see during the race and spent the next several hours catching up on life. The reason that I love having Rudy as a pacer is that he is so easy-going yet he somehow knows what you need, when you need it. I loved listening to his stories about his travels and we both enjoyed catching each other up on the news from all our mutual college friends.

As night settled in we ran across jagged peaks and past a sparkling lake. We had a bright moon this first night and it was great. We saw the headlamps from the 100k racers far in the distance as they ran towards Windy Ridge and kept a keen eye out for the headlamps of other 200 milers. We dropped down to Norway Pass (mile 65.2) around 11:30 pm and saw the crew again. They expertly took care of Rudy and I and swiftly got us out of the aid station within 7 minutes!

Off we climbed towards our next destination. Here the trail got bad. Really bad. What started off as a few down trees quickly became several miles of clambering REALLY big trees every 50-100 ft. Rudy advised me to stop trying to run because I was just wearing myself out trying to keep my footing in the midst of all the blow downs. I eventually conceded and we walked, climbed, crawled and clambered our way through the next several miles. This 11-mile section was super tough mentally because I was still pretty alert and just wanted to MOVE. Yet Rudy kept encouraging me that this was not where the race would be won or lost and I needed to just take care of myself. In the last several miles of this section, I started getting sleepy and we decided that I would take my first sleep break when we arrived at Elk Pass. At 2:30 am, we arrived at Elk Pass (Mile 76.3) and I promptly changed into pajamas and went to sleep in the back of the car. I told the crew to wake me in 1 hour and when they woke me up, I was feeling great. It was chilly as I stepped out of the car and got ready to run. I knew that while the sleep was good for me, none of my competitors had stopped to sleep this early and I would have to make the most of the rest that I had received over the next 50 miles.

Take Another Step

Take another step, take another step
When the road ahead is dark
And you don’t know where to go
Take another step, take another step
Trust God and take another step

Kristen and I left the Elk Pass AS around 4 am. We knew that this section was about 15 miles and was ‘more downhill than up’ but otherwise we didn’t really know what to expect. As we climbed in the dark, I asked her to recap her day so far and she told me about the crewing part of her day and the adventures she and crew had had so far. As the sun rose, we realized that the ‘beautiful meadows and craggy peaks’ of this section were going to be pretty much obscured by fog and some drizzle. Even with the fog, this section was beautiful. Wildflowers were everywhere as we ran through open meadows and deep woods.

About 5 miles into the section, right after we turned off our headlamps, we followed three course markings in making a right turn down a hill. Kristen casually said, “This doesn’t look right.” To which I responded “I am going to always follow the dragons, no matter what.” After about 20 minutes of running with some steep climbs, we came to a clearing with no defined path forward. No course markings were in sight so I pulled out my cell phone and checked my location with the GPS tracks that we were required to have on our phones. My heart sunk as my location showed up way off course. Where did we go wrong? As I tried to figure out where we were, Kristen smartly insisted we backtrack rather than try and bushwhack our way towards the course. I definitely would have fallen off a cliff if I had tried to find the course using my map rather than backtracking! After our 2-mile detour, we found ourselves back at the suspicious turn and realized that it had been tampered with. Kristen re-set the markings the correct direction and off we went. It’s funny how despite nearly an hour detour, it didn’t bother us too much because in the grand scheme of things it was a just a blip of time. We gave the detour a positive spin by rationalizing that it provided the opportunity to spend more time together. During the last several miles heading downhill into the next aid station, my legs really started to feel beat up and I was discouraged by how slow we were moving at this point in the race (roughly mile 85). Kristen offered encouragement by reminding me to just ‘take another step, and another step…’ One step at a time… and eventually we popped out at the Rt 9237 AS.

Never Enough

All the shine of a thousand spotlights
All the stars we steal from the nightsky
Will never be enough
Never be enough
Towers of gold are still too little
These hands could hold the world but it'll
Never be enough
Never be enough

For me

We arrived at the Rt 9237 AS (Mile 91.3) at 9 am and were met by a flurry of activity. I was sitting in a chair, changing shoes, eating breakfast and getting two blisters masterfully popped by Rudy. I felt sort of bad because as I was sitting there being waited on hand and foot by my crew, another crewless racer, David Giles, was slowly digging through his drop bag looking for his clean socks and spare shoes. In the background, the aid station captain was telling us how he has seen a mountain lion while checking on the vandalized section of course and another woman mentioned that there was DEFINITELY a resident mountain lion in the section of the course. Kirby was all set to pace me for the neat 50 miles or so. I finished breakfast and put on new shoes, then Kirby and I took off towards the next aid station, Spencer Butte. As we ran through the beautiful PNW forest, we talked about how in a few miles I would reach the farthest I had ever run. Then from there on out, each step would be a new adventure.

We climbed and descended endlessly during this section and the steep descends began to really hurt my quads. David Giles, the racer who was with me at the last aid station, came flying by and I told Kirby, “Let’s not worry about him right now, there is still a lot of racing left.” Yeah right. If you know me, then you know how competitive I am. After letting him go for about 3 minutes, I felt that tug deep down to start reeling him back in. My pace quickened and I started running more and hiking less. I started opening up on the flats and downhills and within a mile or two, we caught and passed Dave. My coach in high school taught me that when you pass someone, you do it with authority. I guess what makes sense in a high school 5k xc race can be applied to a 200 miler as well? Thus I didn’t just stop after passing him, I kept the gas on for another mile or two. Ironically, I am pretty sure I was running maybe 15-18 min miles at this point while ‘gunning it’ so… perspective. It began to get chilly and dark clouds rolled in as we dropped into the Spencer Butte AS (Mile 102.5).

Rain starting falling as I sat down, lightly at first then steadier. The AS workers were amazing, keeping us warm and feeding us as they calmly asked us what we needed. After a few minutes we put on our rain jackets and headed out on a 2-mile paved section. Once off of the asphalt the trail dived down towards the lowest point on the course. Here the scenery changed dramatically from mountain terrain to that true PNW forest vibe with ferns, giant evergreens and moss covered trees. I kept hearing Kirby yell, “LOOK HOW BIG THIS TREE IS!” We made our way down to the Lewis River after a painfully steep descent and for the first time in over a day, I saw ‘normal’ people walking around, riding bikes and hiking. This section of the Lewis River is very popular due to its beautiful waterfalls and accessible trails. As we followed these flat, groomed trails for 4-5 miles my legs were NOT happy. They were very quickly getting to the point where they felt like they were not going to work for much longer and I was getting worries. I was only 110 miles into this race and I didn’t want to feel this bad ‘this early.” Kirby reassured me that this was normal and not to forget that I had already run OVER 100 Miles. I guess my legs had a reason to feel bad.

As we ran into the Lewis River Aid Station (Mile 112) around 3:30pm we were greeted by the awesome aid station volunteers who had decorated the aid station in a tropical island theme. It’s always great to see aid stations having fun with what they are doing! Along with my crew getting Kirby and I set for the next, very long section, we got the chance to spend some time hanging out with Todd Thomas’ crew. A little back story: At the 2017 Grindstone 100, Todd and his wife Alexis had spent considerable time trying to convince me to join them in doing Bigfoot. I guess we all know how that turned out! Todd was having an excellent race and came into Lewis River while I was making my final preparations to head back out onto the course. His feet were a gross, blistery mess. I kept thinking to myself…don’t let your feet get as bad a Todd’s and you will be juuuust fine.

Kirby and I left this aid station around 4pm knowing that we would not see the crew again for nearly 30 miles. As we headed out into the forest, the enormity of what I was doing began to settle in. I thought to myself, “It is such a milestone even getting to where I am now, but I have more than another whole day to go.” We ran, walked and traversed the trail, which was deeply overgrown with huckleberry bushes. I am not sure when it happened but at some point Kirby and I began singing along to the soundtrack of the Greatest Showman. It’s incredible what 120+ miles and no sleep, along with being isolated in the wilderness can do to your inhibitions. We found ourselves straight up belting out song after song as we went. It was glorious. A little later on, I asked Kirby about our mileage since my watch had died and we sobered up quickly when we came to conclusion that we had spent the last nearly 2 hours not making much forward progress. It was a swift kick in the butt knowing how easy it was to settle into a much to slow and comfortable pace and then lose loads of momentum/forward progress. Around the same time that we came to this conclusion, the skies opened up and rain came pouring down. Not overly heavy, but a steady, drenching rain that not only saturated us but all the foliage around us.

As we continued forward through the deep undergrowth, we were continually soaked by the wet branches and leaves that surrounded us. Even long after the 20-minute rain shower had ceased, we kept getting more and more wet as we went. Several hours into this stretch, which turned out to be the longest climb of the course of 10 miles with about 5,500 ft of ascent, I began to get disoriented with my surroundings. The trail began to all look the same. I saw a tree or a branch that looked familiar. Several times I silently thought, “Have we been past this bend in the trail before?” Eventually, I saw a large downed tree and my stomach dropped because I clearly recognized it was one that we had clambered over earlier, coming from the other direction. I stopped dead in my tracks and said, “Kirby, we have been here before! I recognize this log! We must have gotten turned around somewhere and we are heading the wrong direction!”  Without batting an eye, Kirby calmly reassured me that we were on course and heading the right direction in a way that only Kirby could. I refused to budge. “Let’s look at the map” I argued. After looking at the GPX tracks that indeed showed us on course and facing the correct direction, and at Kirby’s calm urging, I reluctantly proceeded over the downed log. After that situation, I was on high alert, constantly feeling like we were getting lost and terrified that we were heading the wrong direction. I don’t even want to think about what would have happened if I had been alone during that section. After what seemed like several more hours of blindly criss-crossing creeks and climbing up ridiculously steep slopes only to rapidly descend the other side, we began a noticeable and clear, extended climb out of the Quartz Creek draining that we had been wallowing in for most of the afternoon.

The sun was setting and both Kirby and I were starting to really feel the effort we had been putting forth over the last several hours. We both set the goal of making it up to the next ridge by sunset so that we were clear of the deep, wet forest before it got dark. We reached the ridgeline that we would be basically following until the next aid station, we stopped for a celebratory break. We pulled out some food and stopped to relax. Suddenly, we felt a cold wind blow across the ridge from the west just as the sun dipped behind the next mountain over. A deep chill spread across my body and I immediately started shaking uncontrollably. I saw that Kirby felt the same thing and we realized that because of how wet we were and with the temperature plummeting, we did not have the luxury of stopping until we made it to the next aid station where they would hopefully have a propane heater. We quickly found all the warm clothes we had packed, threw them on and took off down the trail, attempting to outrace the cold that was settling in. This section was getting long. We were feeling somewhat demoralized because, even though we knew there was an aid station coming up, we didn’t know what kind of shape it would be in since it’s in the backcountry, with no crew access, and we were going to be some of the first few runners there. I am not embarrassed to say that during these last few miles we were singing a lot of Disney songs just trying to keep my fragile spirit up. We finally saw the glow of the next aid station and my energy level shot up. We had made it to Council Bluff (mile 131) in the dead of night.

Collapsing in the chairs, we stated that I was going to shut my eyes and sleep for 15 min. The aid station volunteers were incredible and immediately took my pack and piled 3 blankets on my while I immediately dozed off. While I was sleeping, Kirby got some hot food and coffee and was warming up under several blankets as well. 15 minutes went by in the blink of an eye and the volunteers gently woke me up.  This group of volunteers had an interesting story. They were all one extended family hailing from different parts of the US ranging from New York to the west coast. Some of the family members had run Bigfoot in 2015 and then as a group they decided to volunteer together at this aid station. It was like a big family reunion for them up on top of the mountain, including having a toddler up there with them. Their enthusiasm for the race was infectious. They cheerfully told us that this upcoming section was by far the easiest of the entire course at about 11 miles with a big next downhill, but more importantly, the trail was runnable and there were even be a couple miles of dirt road. This was music to our ears after struggling through the last 10 miles of rough, overgrown, barely runnable trail and we left Council Bluff smiling and waving. 

We ran down the side of the mountain, weaving between large trees and every now and then catching a glimpse of a toad, salamander or other small creature running across the trail. The cold of this night was in stark contrast to the night before due to the dampness. Kirby and I ran in and out of the fog as we descended rapidly. We decided to re-sing the Greatest showman soundtrack again and as we were in the middle of singing the song Never Enough at the top of our lungs, we turned a corner and found ourselves in the middle of a sleeping encampment of dirt bikers! Clearly, they were out for the weekend for a race or ride because there were tons of dirt bikes, tents, trucks and campers everywhere. We quickly (and by quickly, I mean probably running 18-20 min/mile) scooted out of there and finally popped out on a dirt road as the clouds cleared to reveal incredible views of the night sky. SO MANY STARS. Because we were on a smooth, wide dirt road, we were able to run and stare straight up into the night sky. It was amazing! The Perseiad meteor shower was in full swing, but I wasn’t lucky enough to see any during this stretch. We turned back onto single track right before Chain of Lakes Aid station and, for the first time in nearly a day, we saw the glow of another racer and his pacer’s headlamps ahead of us. We quickly caught up to Andy Pearson, who had been leading most of the way from the start, quickly said hi, and scooted on by. It felt good to pass someone. This race is so remote and the competitors were so spread out that, whenever I had the chance to feel a little competitive edge, it felt REALLY good.

To be continued: read part 2