Ultra Kraut Running

Let's get something out of the way from the get go. I had to use a picture of my Garmin Fenix 6X, because I sold my Garmin Enduro as soon as I got home from my extensive field test, but more about that in this user experience review. If you are looking for a really detailed review with technical specs and comparisons to other devices, I strongly suggest you check out the DC Rainmaker review. He does an amazing job reviewing and comparing the latest tech in depth. My review will be based on a specific use case, which I felt may be beneficial to other athletes and anyone that pushes the time and distance limits during organized endurance events and solo adventures.

Garmin touts this, its top of the line watch for endurance athletes as the "Smartwatch for Endurance Athletes". However, their biggest marketing pitch has centered on the Enduro featuring the longest lasting battery life in the industry. Considering how long Garmin has been in the game and how much this solar power supported watch sets you back, it would be only normal to believe the hype. I know I did...until I actually put it to the test. But before I go any further, I wanted to provide some background to this review.

I think it is fair to say that I have been a Garmin fanboy of sorts ever since my awesome wife got my my very first GPS watch after I become serious about running as a hobby nearly 15 years ago. I've always enjoyed the latest tech gadgets and Garmin has been fitting that bill nicely. I have had about 6 different iterations of various Garmin Forerunner and Fenix series models over these 15 years and my car has always been equipped with a Garmin device as well. All that to say, it actually pained me to write this review as it is a stark departure from my previous experiences with Garmin devices. To say that I was underwhelmed is an understatement. 

I upgraded to the Garmin Enduro GPS watch last summer as I was getting ready for my first attempt at the 200 mile distance at the Bigfoot 200 Mile Endurance Run. I never really got to put the watch through its paces as I ended up pulling the plug after just 21 hours. It did not matter, I knew I'd get another chance at the Moab 240 Mile Endurance Run in October.

Garmin was very clear in its description of the Enduro feature that they had foregone some features (like mapping and music player) in an effort to limit any unnecessary strain on its battery life. After all, they promised at least 80 hours with the standard battery profile and up to 300 hours of GPS tracking with a custom battery profile. Getting ready for the Moab 250 Miler, I knew I would likely need more than 80 hours of battery life, so I actually set up a custom profile turning off the heart rate monitor, backlight, and every other feature that was't related to actual GPS tracking. In other words, I should be getting closer to 300 than 80 hours of battery life. Since the Enduro does not support mapping, I did use the breadcrumb feature by loading the course onto the watch, so i could ensure to stay on course at various intersections. 

I started the watch and would really just check at aid stations to see if overall distances still lined up with the info we received at said checkpoints. The watch performed flawlessly...until it didn't. The one thing that's supposed to be the selling feature that also sets itself apart from other manufacturers like Coros and Suunto was the battery life. To much shock and frustration, my watch shut itself off after just 69 hours. The battery did not even last 70 hours. Even with all the features turned off and solar and the supposedly longest lasting battery in the market, the Garmin Enduro did not even last 70 hours. If you are a runner who track all of their workouts, especially bucket list races, then you understand why I was frustrated and borderline angry.

Now you also know why I no longer have the Enduro. I sold it on eBay the day after I returned from Moab 240. Thankfully, one doesn't require a GPS watch to actually finish an endurance event, but that is beside the point. I just felt like venting and sharing my disappointment in a company and product that should be a true market leader, not in words but in action. As I mentioned earlier, I have been a big fan of Garmin products for many years and I continue to be to some degree. I love the technology and the safety the inReach mini provides and I am still using my Fenix 6X with its multitude of features. However, I am not sure I will continue this trend. 

I have been contacting Garmin more than once to offer my services to be a beta tester as I had noticed a few features over the years in the Fenix series and other devices that could have used some improvements, but they never responded. When I love a product, I can overlook some shortcomings, but I do want to provide feedback. It's a shame when that feedback is not accepted. If you're listening or reading this Garmin, my offer still stands. But for now, the GPS watch of choice for my next 200 mile attempt will be a Coros Vertix 2. Every single Coros watch user still had plenty of battery life left at the end of the Moab 240 and that's all that matters for this type of watch. When it doesn't deliver on this promise, then what is the point...really.

Where to begin on this one. While I haven't nearly begun to truly process what transpired over those 4 days in Utah traversing both mountains and desert terrain around Moab, I figured it's time to put pen to paper or more accurately, finger to keyboard. It had been a year with plenty of ups and downs, both in my health and in my running. I was determined to keep the positive momentum going to the end of the year by finishing my first 200+ miler. My first attempt at the distance at the Bigfoot 200 in August did not go well at all and ended in an early DNF and I wasn't interested in creating a 200 mile DNF streak for myself. After the Tahoe 200 being postponed for the second year in a row (Covid & devastating wildfires), this was going to be my only chance to actually finish the 200 mile distance in 2021. My original goal was the Triple Crown of 200, but after DNFing the first one and the second event being cancelled, I was excited to just get a chance at actually finishing one of the events.

I intended to get to Moab the day prior to race packet pickup and to camp at one of the nearby BLM campsites. I had left my camper van on the west coast over the summer in anticipation of the 200s, but when I arrived in town, all BLM sites were already taken. Luckily, I was able to grab a spot at one of the developed RV parks right next to the race start and finish location. 

Packet pickup was rather uneventful for me. I didn't really run into any old friends, but that was to be expected considering that I was a long way from my own backyard, nearly 2000 miles to be exact. I checked in with the medical team as is required after picking up my race bib, parking pass and purchased race swag. Afterwards, I quickly made my way to a small local vegan food truck for early dinner, so I could head back to my campsite and van to finalize my drop bags and to get my running kit ready.

Once everything was packed and ready to go I took one last hot shower as I knew I would have to be without access to one for the next 4 days:-) I laid down early to ensure i was off my feet as much as possible leading into the race, even if I knew I wasn't going to sleep much. Staying close to the race start also allowed me to sleep an extra thirty minutes or so as my plan was to get there as close to the actual race start as possible. 

The race was scheduled to start at 6AM on Friday, so very similar to the usual start times for other ultras. I had set my alarm for 4:30AM on race morning, but I was up by 4AM. I started my day by making a pot of coffee and by taping my feet. This is when I realized I did not have enough tape, so I could only tape my heels. Next up, lube and guess what...I had grabbed the one empty Squirrel's Nut Butter Stick rather than any of the new ones from home. I was now two for two in regards to pre-race mistakes. Oh well, I thought, I might as well get ready for more of this over the next 4 days. I fully expected numerous unexpected challenges and problems to be solved and running was the least of the things I would worry about.

I left the campground at 5AM and pulled into the overnight parking lot for runners 5 minutes later. I finished my morning coffee, grabbed my race pack, stashed my van keys and walked the quarter mile to the race start. I was dark, but the energy was palpable. There were more than just a few camera crews there to document various runners' journeys and lots of phones and cameras were flashing. Lots of faces reflected both excitement and anticipation of the unknown. After a brief "pep talk" by RD Candice Burt, we pushed closer to the start line under the start/finish arch and waited on the signal to go. At 6AM, we took off into the (still) dark streets of Moab, Utah. 

The first 9+ mile stretch to the Hidden Valley aid station took us through the streets of Moab for about 3 miles before we hit single track and started our first (albeit minor) climb towards and past the aid station. I tried to settle into an easy pace from the get go as this would be one of the most important tactical decisions to finishing a race of this distance, along with a solid nutrition and sleep strategy, of course. But even more important than either of these strategies would be my ability to accept challenges as they arose during the race and to adapt to them. As a famous boxer (Iron Mike) once said: "Everyone has a plan until they get punched in the mouth." I had learned that first hand and quite literally as a teenager and in early adulthood as a kickboxer and it applies just as much to running long distances, especially when running 100 miles or more, even if less literal and more metaphoric. In the words of my friend and fellow ultrarunner Paul Morris: "Success in ultrarunning isn't so much about running as it is about solving problems." These are the things I think about when getting ready for and starting any event of 100 miles or longer and the Moab 240 was no different. 

As I started to make my way up and along the single track trail above Moab, the sun started to rise allowing us runners to turn off our headlamps. Before I knew it, I saw the first aid station just below us and a short descent later, I wolfed down an avocado sandwich, refilled my bottles and continued on. It is worth noting that all aid stations, but especially all of the early ones had a really nice variety of food items, including plant-based choices. As a result, I ate real foods from the start and supplemented it with the real food (i.e. Spring Energy gels) that I had stashed in my numerous drop bags to keep extra weight in my pack to a minimum. Pack weight can be a real issue, so it is really important that one plans very carefully as the combination of mandatory gear, large amounts of fluids and food can add up quickly to a very heavy pack. Thankfully, the temperatures initially thought to approach tripe digits never really crept much higher than the 70s. As a result, some of us were able tog et away with carrying a lot less fluids and water than otherwise recommended. 

The next stretch to Amasa Back aid station at mile 18 was quite memorable as well, with bits of technical single track followed by some more runnable stretches and a memorable slick rock section overlooking the Colorado River as we descended towards a 2 mile road stretch to Amasa. I had been in this area earlier in the year while camping and running a 50K just outside Moab (Red Hot 55K), but was unable to get a camping spot this time around as they were all already taken. I did, however, check out the area the day before the race to get some drone footage. Just before I started the descent to the river, it started to drizzle a bit. 30 minutes later, it had turned to a steady drizzle, which led me to put on my waterproof prior to leaving the Amasa Back aid station. Once again, the volunteers were amazing and the spread was plentiful. 

The next section had us descending to a small creek before starting a climb headed to the top of a rim along the Colorado River on the Jackson Trail, a single track trail that would eventually send us to the top of and down Jackson Ladder (aka Jacob's Ladder). Our next stop and respite would be Basecamp aid station at mile 33, just over 50K into the race. It is worth mentioning that after the first two aid stations of the race, the sections between aid stations would be anywhere between 15-27 miles. Considering the slower pace of an event of this distance, that meant excruciatingly long stretches of time without any additional food, water and often without much interaction with any other humans. This was particularly tough during the overnight stretches.

Once I made it to Basecamp AS, I made sure to refill both my bottles and my hydration bladder as we had a 25 mile stretch ahead of us with only a water stop in between. I also made sure to eat a couple of tortilla/avocado rollups. This next stretch was probably my best or second best one of the race, but I had made a mental mistake. An unexpected spectator had called out my placement in the field a few miles back and I was sitting way higher in the field than I had expected and of course that messed with my head, if only for a short time. However, it was long enough to have me push juuust a little in this section and while I arrived at mile 57 Oasis aid station (formerly Breaking Bad AS) feeling great, the wheels came off ever so slightly on the next section between mile 57 and Indian Creek aid station at mile 72. I did get a great mental boost coming into Oasis as my good friend Jay and his buddy (and soon to be good friend of mine) Brian ran this aid station. Jay and I met just a few months earlier crewing and pacing a mutual friend of ours at Badwater and Jay had suggested that he may be bale to crew/pace me for the last 50 miles or so at Moab, if I wanted the help. Of course I did, but to be honest, I didn't really expect him to be able to, so I planned with lots of drop bags just to be save. Imagine my surprise when he confirmed that he and Brian would join me to crew and pace me as soon as they could once they closed down Oasis AS. I was stoked about these news and as would become clear later on, I desperately needed their help and support. As many ultrarunners know, it is not about having someone hand you your supplies or dragging your butt along the course, it is much more about seeing a familiar and friendly face and having someone listen, give you that little nudge or reassure you when you need it the most.

 It started to get dark just after I left Oasis AS and as the sun went down, so did my energy. I started to feel the first 60 miles and as a result, I reached my lowest point of the entire race over the course of the next 12 miles. I went from a decent running pace to a shuffle to a power hike to a slow walk. And as my pace slowed my mental fortitude waned just as quickly. By the time I arrived at Indian Creek for my first planned "rest break", I was pretty much determined to quit. I say pretty much, because I wasn't willing to hand in my GPS tracker and take off my race bib just yet. Instead, I went through the motions of getting refueling and changing into warm dry clothes (that I had stashed in my drop bag along with a sleeping bag) to try to get a short nap. All the while I was pretty sure I was done for good. I kept chatting with volunteers and medical staff as I continued to eat and drink to try to get my energy levels back up and to see whether it would have an effect on my current mindset. It did not, but I decided to try to get some rest before making any final decisions. I was nearly a day ahead of cutoffs, so there was no reson to rush to any decision. I asked a volunteer to wake me in 3 hours and crawled into one of the tents to get some rest. I nodded off pretty quickly, but just an hour later, I was awake again, my mind spinning and still not agreeing to continue on. I laid there staring at the tent ceiling for another two hours before climbing out of the tent and grabbing one of the chairs near the propane fire pit. I usually consider sitting down by a fire the kiss of death in an ultra and I never do during a 100 miler, but this situation was different. 

After sitting by the fire for another 30 minutes or so, I made my way back over to the food and medical tent. I went through the motions of getting my pack ready, still not convinced I would continue. Then I asked Nicole, one of the amazing medical staff to check my feet and tape them as needed for any hotspots or blisters. Even if I didn't continue, it would hurt to take care of my feet. I kept telling myself: "You might as well go through the motions...". Nicole checked my feet, confirmed that there were no blisters and reapplied tape as needed to address hotspots. By the time Nicole finished taping my feet and I finally took of my warm pants and jacket, I had spent nearly 6 1/2 hours at Indian Creek AS. It was now 4AM and I finally made a deal with myself. Make it to the next checkpoint and then decide, if you want to go on. No more, no less. No massive commitments to finish the whole thing, just the commitment to make it to the next aid station. I stuck to that commitment for the remainder of my Moab adventure.

When I finally left the Indian Creek aid station with full bottles, fuel and a secret stash of candy (courtesy of my favorite medic Nicole), I bumped into another runner, Marc, and we decided to stick together for a while. Turns out, we kept each other accountable and moving through the next 24 hours or 50 miles, all the way up and down Shay Mountain, both the most challenging and coldest part of the course for us. Thanks again Marc for the encouragement and company through those hours and miles.

As we continued on and finally approached the climb up Shay Mountain, I didn't really know what to expect. Just having completed UTMB 4 weeks earlier, I figured, how bad could this climb really be? Well, I got my answer over the next hour, both before and after the false summit. This climb was both technical and steep, reminding me of a couple of the late grinds at UTMB. Marc and I finally made it to the Shay Mountain aid station round midnight. We decided to try to get some proper sleep up here, he in his crew vehicle and me in one of the tents, before meeting up again to lave the aid station at 4AM sharp. I spent about 45 minutes eating and taking care of somethings before grabbing some warm clothes again from one of my drop bags and crawling into one of the tents for 3 hours. I had asked one of the volunteers to wake me at 3:30AM, so I would have enough time to get dressed, use the bathroom and eat some more before heading out again. Unfortunately, the volunteer somehow forgot about me. Luckily, I woke up on my own 2 minutes before 4AM after getting a full 3 hours of sleep. I scrambled to get out of my sleeping back and back into my running clothes. I had wisely shoved them into the bottom of my sleeping bag to keep them warm and dry them out, an old trick I learned from backpackers. When I finally stumbled out of the tent, I started calling Marc's name into the darkness. The only light was a propane fire pit and a couple of headlamps, not nearly enough light for me to recognize anybody. Since it was already past 4AM, I figured Marc had left. I decided to take my time, to use the bathroom and to refill my bottles and nutrition from my drop bag. The gels at the aid station were frozen. Temps had actually dropped below 30 degrees. I decided to get moving before I could get cold.

As I shuffled through the parking lot just past the aid station lined with crew vehicles, I heard someone shout my name. Marc thankfully was running late as well, so we managed to leave the aid station together just as we has originally planned. I had a pacer ready to join him, but since it was just a couple of ours until daylight, he chose to join his pacer at the next aid station, Dry Valley at mile 140. I was starting to get cold and since it was mostly downhill for the next 20 miles, a light shuffle felt appropriate. Unfortunately, shortly after leaving the aid station, Marc's back seized up and he needed to sit down to try to stretch it out. I, on the other hand, was getting cold quickly, so I made the choice to continue on without Marc in hopes that he would catch up to me like he had before. I also knew that he had a crew and pacer waiting for him at the next aid station, so I felt confident that he would be ok.

The 3 hours of sleep had felt great and as the sun came up, I felt even more energized. By late morning, I finally rolled into the Dry Valley aid station and was excited to see that both Jay and Brian were there to greet me. From this point forward, I would have both crew and a pacer at all times for the remaining 100 miles. They sat me down and handed me an oat milk latte with a nice bowl of quinoa and fresh fruit...and a donut!

From here on out, I had a kick ass crew and pacer. Jay and Brian and above and beyond to keep me moving and in good spirits, and believe me, I didn't always make it easy for them to keep a positive attitude. I owe these guys more than just gratitude and hopefully, I will be able to show them just how thankful I am in the future, either by repaying the favor or by other means. These guys were true rockstars!

Brian was the first to join me as pacer. We had a long stretch of mostly flat and hard packed dirt roads ahead of us. I felt a bit guilty of not running as much as I really wanted to, but the distance I already covered started to show. We had a half marathon to cover to make it to Wind Whistle AS and then on to Road 46, where we would meet up with Jay again for the first time since the Dry Valley AS, more than a marathon since we saw him last. Had I had more energy, I would have loved to run much more than I did. Regardless, my mind was already trying to wrap its head around the highest point of the snow route course that lay ahead, Pole Canyon AS at mile 185 at an elevation of just below 9000 feet. 

I don't remember much of the climb up to Pole Canyon AS, but I do know that I did not struggle with the sleepies at all. I was tired, of course, but I wasn't falling asleep on my feet or even sleepwalking. Instead, I dealt with some hallucinations, but even those were few and far between, as I don't even have vivid memories of them as is usually the case. When we finally made it to Pole Canyon AS, it felt amazing to have completed another major milestone of the course. It was somewhere between 1 or 2 AM  when we arrived and we spent about 3-4 hours there, to recharge. The aid station was amazing! There was a full made to order menu with pancakes, veggie dogs, hashbrowns, you name it, they served it up hot and made to order. I ordered twice, before and after I tried tog et another nap in, once again unsuccessful. However, i did learn that just getting off your feet was as important as actually sleeping.

Jay and I finally left the aid station right at sunrise, which treated us to the most spectacular display of fall colors, yet. We enjoyed the first couple of miles of the descent just taking on the amazing views before getting back to work. While this section to the next water stop was a nearly 20 mile descent, I didn't move much faster downhill than uphill. This section had one of the most technical sections of the entire course, boulder like rocks without a clear path for miles and miles beating up your feet even more than they already were. There are a couple of expletive laden video clips of this section floating around Facebook that are actually really funny. I had some choice words for this section myself.

When Jay and I finally made it to the bottom of the descent, we came through a section was was clearly hit hard by somewhat recent wildfires. It is unreal how much devastation a wildfire can cause and how far and unpredictable wildfires cur their paths. The weather was changing and the severe storms that had been forecast started to form. Wind gusts had become severe and we could see snow storms at the higher elevations of the La Sal Mountains. When we arrived at the water stop we crouched down behind the unmanned aid table, grabbed some candy bars and refilled our water bottles before starting the 7 mile road climb to the next aid station. There were only 2 more aid stations to come and I was starting to "smell the barn". I was determined to finish this climb as fast as possible. Using my trekking poles, I actually felt like I was making good time. I caught up to a couple of runners and didn't get passed along the 7 mile stretch. 

Jay kept encouraging me and I was actually quite optimistic at this point. But I'm not gonna lie, that wind really sucked. When we finally made it to Brian and the truck, I was happy to grab some food and lay down in the truck for a few minutes to rest my body (and feet, in particular). I was also ready for some fresh clean clothes. Not to be too graphic, but the liner of my shorts was covered in diaper rash ointment, so a fresh pair of shorts and shirt sounded fantastic. By the time I climbed out of the truck to get ready, I was surprised to see Jeff Browning hanging out as he was waiting for one of his coached runners. It was great to catch up with him and I am thankful for the intel he shared with mer regarding the remainder of the course. How did he know the course you ask? Well, he had already finished pacing Mike McKnight, the winner of the Moab 240, to the finish line, so the course was still very fresh on his mind.

It would now be Brian's turn to pace me through the next section before jay would take over again for the final stretch along Porcupine Rim and to the finish. According to Jeff, the next section would be very runnable and as it turned out, it really was. I had my second best stretch of the race right here. In fact, I was moving so fast that Jay never got a chance to get some rest before we meet him again at the final aid station. As a result, Brian would be "stuck" with me all the way to the finish line. 

If the last section was my second strongest of the race, the final stretch was my worst. At least until we had about 4 miles left to the finish. Porcupine Rim all but broke me. I took a short break at the final aid station, but when we started tog et going again, I felt worse than I had in a while. My body felt fine, but my feet were aching and that didn't go away until the last 4 or 5 miles. Brian was a trooper. I bitched and moaned almost the entire time...until we hit a section that finally seemed to lead down towards Moab. This gave me a final boost. I started running the still technical single track and I started to pick up my pace. I even started passing runners as I built more momentum. I kept pushing and finally, we got dumped out onto a paved bike path. We still had about 2.5 miles to go, but I was almost done, almost.

Brian walked alongside me as my pace slowed to a shuffle once again. I would walk and then run and then walk some more. Thankfully, we made the final turn to the finish just as the storm arrived in town. In fact, as I shuffled the final quarter mile, I was afraid that the finish line arch may just be gone by the time I get there. The wind gusts were severe and rain started to fall. No matter, I was finally done. When I finally crossed the finish line, I was elated to have finished. I had serious doubts early on, but once I made it past that low point, I never looked back. I am thankful to have had some an amazing crew to support me and I should not fail to mention the amazing crew of volunteers and medical personal, Nicole in particular, who went above and beyond what one would or should expect. I will be forever grateful to all of these peeps whom I now consider family. I still have not processed the enormity of this adventure or the impact it's had on me and continued to have, but I needed to write this report before too much time passes. Clearly, enough time has already passed for me to sign up for more ultra adventures next year. 

When it was all said and done, it had taken me over 92 hours to cover 240 miles. I slept a total of 4 hours and ate more tortillas than I care to count. This race had it all, challenging weather and challenging terrain ranging from desert to mountains and everything in between. If you've run 100 miles a few times before and maybe wonder whats next, this may be it.

 

Wow! What an unexpected weekend! In more ways than one. First of all, it didn't seem like I was even going be be at the starting line. I was meant to do the Triple Crown of 200 Milers this summer with the Ultra-Trail du Mont-Blanc 106M sandwiched in between, no time really to go for another Barkley Fall Classic 50K finish. More importantly, I was never selected for the race and had been on the waitlist for almost a year. But things can change quickly, for better and for worse.

To kick things off, I did not succeed at my first attempt at the 200 mile distance and first event of the Triple Crown of 200s, the Bigfoot 200 in Washington. I dropped at mile 65 with blisters. I couldn't imagine another 160 miles on those feet. It did not fill me with confidence as I got ready to travel to France in an attempt to earn my third UTMB finish just 10 days later. Thankfully, my feet healed up enough and my tape job kept my feet in good condition for all of the 41 hours it took me to finish UTMB. The day prior to the start of the UTMB, I received an email notifying participants that massive wildfires in the Tahoe area had made the Tahoe 200 race scheduled for September impossible. So when an email with a BFC invite off the waitlist appeared in my email inbox I didn't hesitate to accept. 

I only had one goal, make it around Frozen Head State Park and the 2021 BFC course in time to collect my fourth Croix rather than be timed out for a marathon finish, or worse, get hurt and/or timed out earlier. I had never had that concern before, but I was coming off UTMB just a short couple of weeks earlier, and my training this year just hadn't been anywhere near I'd usually be at by this time. Injuries cut my training cycles short, so (on average) I am standing at half the vert and nearly half the miles vs my previous years. It did not matter, maybe I'd get to run with someone and enjoy the day rather than break myself trying to run another PR. After all, you're really never able to beat a PR on this course as it changes every year.

Speaking of course changes, this year's course was a doozy. While we did get the course maps the night before the race rather than on race morning as was the case last year, there appeared to be a small course change (ie the course map had an error). Lucky for me, my buddy Jeff Deaton was in the know, aka a little birdie told him at race packet pickup. Three beers later, I had finally memorized this year's course map with Jeff's help, including that little course deviation early on in the race.

Travel logistics were also a bit more complicated this year. I had sold my Jeep a week before the race and my sprinter van was still parked in LA in anticipation of my next 200 miler attempt in Moab, UT. Since my new to me car wouldn't arrive until the week after BFC, I had to rent a car to travel to Frozen Head SP. Just as lat year, Brian Young was quick to offer his front yard as a campground for weary BFC travelers, including the post race Chili, beers and moonshine. He really is am amazing host that makes everyone feel welcome without asking for anything in return. This year, more than 20 runners got to enjoy his hospitality.

I opted to sleep in the back of my rented SUV, which turned out to not be such a great idea, ie. I didn't sleep but a couple of hours continuing to slide off the sleeping pad I had thrown into the back of the car. Didn't matter, I don't often get much sleep the night prior to any ultra anyway. I had already laid out my gear and supplies for race morning, so all that was left to do was tape my heels and make some coffee.

I rolled up to the start-finish line 30 minutes prior to race start and it was still pitch black. I scanned the area to look for and say hello to a few familiar faces before lining up in the starting coral. I briefly caught up with Liz who had recently moved to Colorado and came back to gun for the win. And I spotted Brett, another local Huntsville runner. We lined up near the front of the starting line, but I had no intention of sprinting from the start as is often the case a this race as runners jockey for position to avoid getting stuck in a conga line up one of the many single track trails in the park. Luckily, I had become somewhat familiar with the park's trails, so I knew the first section would be mostly on a wide jeep road all the way to the top of the first of six climbs. I won't be sharing a description of the course here as that would take away all of the fun for future runners, but I will say that this year offered up the most challenging weather conditions, yet. I'd take heat over rainstorms and the resulting mudslides any day on the BFC course. It also felt the longest of the courses I'd run over the years along with more vert than before. Exactly what one hopes for when toeing the starting line at the BFC.

For the next nearly 11 hours, Brett and I would basically run together or at least be within each other's earshot as our day's ebbed and flowed. I was thankful to have company for a race I knew would take me a bit longer than usual, but we agreed that we would not hold each other back in case either one of us wanted to take off and push. That never happened, we just managed to run mostly comfortably without ever waling any runnable sections. I did, however, make a point of not running any inclines at all and pushing the pace a little on the downhills. As the course deteriorated on both the climbs and the descents, our pace forcibly slowed.

It became a challenge just to maintain any kind of momentum and all one could do is laugh at it. Laugh at the comedy that played out among all of us runners as powerline cuts turned into muddy slip and slides, resulting in uncontrollable "mud glissading" down the powerline cuts and pulling yourself up these same mud slides on an actual decommissioned power line. We just "assumed" it was decommissioned, which it was, but it had only been for a little over a week! One local "angel" had actually ensured that the power company turn off this line that would have otherwise been a live powerline on race day. You could say we all got very lucky! It was an easy mistake. There had been a few other decommissioned powerlines along the course that we were able to sue over the years, but this one looked much newer and shinier and we should've probably wondered why that was. Thankfully, no runner was electrocuted during the running of this race:-) 

I made it to the decision point and how tempting it may have seemed to hear Laz ask whether I wanted to take the marathon win, I told him the same thing I had every year prior: "no freaking way!" 

Brett and I continued to make our way towards and up the final climb, which took f-o-r-e-v-e-r. When we finally arrive at the top and started running the ridge line, there were still a few more climbs before the final 5K descent. Hike up run down, hike up, run down. Most of the trails in this park are not familiar with the concept of switchbacks. Eventually, the up and down ended and we finally descended. I was "smelling the barn" ie. I was ready to get it done. My legs felt pretty good, so I let it rip. I may have passed about 10 runners over this final stretch and was elated to finally cross that finish line just before dark. I collected my fourth croix and headed pretty much straight for the local rancher association hosting the cookout for the event, ordering a couple of veggie burgers and a couple of pepsis to replenish the energy lost during the day. Brett finished just behind me and when it was all said and done, a total of 170 runners out of 460 managed to earn a 50K finish on what was likely one of the toughest days in BFC history, yet still not anywhere even remotely close to what Big Barkers deal with, in case anyone is wondering:-) I've only crewed and that as enough to learn that much. 

Hopefully, I will be back next year to earn my fifth croix...

As one can imagine, even though extensive stress tests and other tests did not reveal any abnormalities, this health scare has been weighing on me heavily. I have never been comfortable thinking about my own mortality and I certainly expected (and still do) that I have a lot more time to do so. After all, there are a lot more adventures to be had and my bucket list is still growing. Rather than an actual physical impediment, this has been much more of a mental challenge for me as it is always (or at least most of the time) in the back of my head.

To make matters worse, I ended up seriously injuring my right ankle the weekend after setting the course record in a gnarly 100K here in the Southeastern US. Rather than enjoying a successful race, I entered a local stage race the following weekend, were serious weather created treacherous trail conditions leading to my injury. Well, my aggressive racing was likely as much to blame as the weather. This happened in Aoril and I'd been dealing with repeated ankle rolls since, even after periodically taking time off from running, especially running on trails. 

Suffice it to say, this did not result in an optimal training cycle leading into UTMB. In addition, I had a rather packed summer of racing ahead of me, starting with the Bigfoot 200 Miler, just 2 weeks prior to UTMB. Bigfoot was to be my first attempt at the 200 mile distance, followed by the Tahoe 200 just after UTMB and the Moab 240 in October. Unfortunately, the Bigfoot 200 was over for me before it ever really started. By mile 65, I had decided to drop out of the race after moving for 21 hours due to a severe case of blisters on both feet. Triple digit temps on exposed lavarock weren't too kind to my feet. I spent most of my final 2 weeks leading up to UTMB with taking care of my feet to get them healthy and ready for another loop around the Mont-Blanc massif.

Thankfully, UTMB is about so much more than just the race. It is an amazing weeklong immersive experience in the world's trail running mecca, Chamonix, France. My wife volunteered once more to be my crew during the race, so we would travel to Europe together again and for the first time in nearly 2 years. While I had never been this uncertain about the outcome of an event, my stoke level was turned up to 11. 10,000 trail and mountain runners converging onto the village of Chamonix at the foot of Mont-Blanc was well worth the various hoops we had to jump through the ensure our passage to and from Europe. After all, safety is key in such a large scale event, so I was perfectly fine with the various Covid measures taken by the different countries and communities involved.

My wife Anya and I arrived in Geneva, Switzerland around noon on Tuesday, 3 days prior to the race start, after a trip of nearly 20 hours starting at our doorstep. We still had about an hour's drive to Chamonix, France, but that is usually the most enjoyable part of the trip. Before ever leaving on this trip, there were quite a few logistics to be taken care of. First, we needed to apply for a digital EU Covid pass through the French authorities online prior to our departure to make sure we'd be allowed to enter public and private establishments like shops and restaurants. Second, my wife needed to fill out an affidavit verifying that she was both vaccinated and negative for her entry by car into Italy, which would be required to crew me during the race as she could be asked to present this document upon entering Italy. Thankfully, Switzerland had no such requirements. Finally, we needed to secure Covid tests to be taken 24-48 hours prior to our return back into the US and administered virtually (i.e in front of a live online proctor), so we would be our digital negative Covid test which we needed to present to Delta prior to our departure. We also needed to carry our CDC vaccination card which Delta required upon our departure from the US. Essentially, we had to deal with the various requirements of 5 countries, but it was well worth it.

We arrived in Chamonix in the early afternoon. I get as giddy as a little kid every time I arrive in this village. The atmosphere is electric for seven days straight, though I keep missing the first day or day and a half during race week as we usually don't leave the US until Monday. The town was buzzing already as expected. Many runners and their family and crew arrive the weekend prior as there are seven races taking place spread out throughout the week with the main event, the UTMB being the last race to start, usually at 5PM on Friday afternoon. This year, UTMB along with the other races and distances utilized a wave start, three waves broken down based on individual runner ITRA rankings (i.e. expected pace) with approx. 1000 runners each, starting 30 minutes apart with the first wave which also contained the elite runners starting at 5PM.

We checked into our AirBnB first, which almost became a disaster as I was somehow unable to use the AirBNB app to contact our host. Luckily, I eventually found our host's mobile number, which allowed me to reach him. We parked our rental car and lugged our 50lbs duffel bags and suitcases up three flights of stairs. Our tiny studio apartment was in the perfect location, a 2 min walk to everything, the expo, the race start, the bakery, the bar, everything was right there. After we dropped off our bags and realized that we had neither linens, a shower curtain, a TV or WiFi, we checked out the race expo, which is always a fun thing to do to ensure that you're not passing out in the middle of the day due to jetlag. 

While we walked around the expo, I made sure to check in with my various friends who had already arrived. Even though France is essentially on the other end of the world, or at least 12+ hours of air travel away, it is like homecoming of sorts. I get to reconnect with friends I made either at UTMB in previous years or stateside while running different ultramarathons. And that's how I basically spent the next two days leading up to the race, meeting up with friends both old and new during shakeout runs, over coffee or for a beer. In between, my better half and I would try to catch some sleep somehow. It seems every year jetlag becomes more and more of a challenge for me.

On Tuesday evening I also dropped off a couple of pairs of shiny new trail runners to have custom Vibram sole put on them. Vibram offers this as a free service, encouraging runners to test their latest lugged trail outsoles. Always feels like xmas when I finally get them back on Friday morning. On Thursday, it was time for race check in to pick up my race bib. Unlike in previous years, check-in was very quick. Covid precautions meant no mandatory gear check, at least not during check-in. I was in and out of there in less than 15 minutes. 

I spent most of Friday leading up to the race start rethinking my gear choices. It seemed to be the only thing I could actually control. To make matters even more interesting, the race organization notified runners via text that we would be required to carry the additional mandatory winter kit along with the regular mandatory kit after all. Initially, we had received information that only the regular mandatory kit as required along with a "suggested" third layer. However, weather in the Alps (as in any mountain range) can and will change quickly. Once I had my gear sorted for the last time, I laid down again to rest and stay as relaxed as possible, By the time we made our way from the starting wave corral to the actual start line I had already been awake for a good 10 hours. As a result, runners are often awake for more than 48 and as much as 60 hours straight. Sleep deprivation and hallucinations have become close acquaintances of mine during this event.

As mentioned earlier, the race organization had elite runners and other first wave runners gather in a pre-race corral about a quarter mile from the start line and 90 minutes prior to the 5PM start. I had really hoped to stay in our apartment as long as possible, bur rules are rules. As it turned out, we were able to voluntarily have our mandatory kit verified, allowing us to avoid another gear check during the actual race. While we were fully exposed to the sun during our wait, it wasn't as warm as I had feared. I started the race in a short sleeve shirt, but fully expected to put on my Patagonia Houdini windbreaker as soon as the sun went down. As it turned out, I would be wearing the Houdini for most of the race, except right after the start and for the final 10 miles of the race. In between I would put on my puffy MHW Ghost Whisperer jacket, but only for very brief periods during the coldest parts of the night.

While the mood was still pretty subdued in the pre-race corral, once we got to the actual starting line in the center of Chamonix with the music thumping the atmosphere changed very quickly. The announcers were hyping up both the spectators and the runners and there was even a high wire slack line artist taking pictures of the crowd from above. I used the time to find some shade along with my good buddy Joel from Nashville as we waited for the start signal. I called my wife to find out where exactly she was going to be located during the start, so I could try to pick her out in the crowd after we took off, but that turned out to be an effort in vain.

At 5:02PM, runners were sent off on one of the most spectacular adventures known in the world of ultra running. As I always do when in Chamonix, I managed to link up with Joel Meredith, a trail running crusher from Nashville, who came off his most challenging Hardrock 100 finish to date, actually ending up in the hospital for a couple of days after. As expected, that did not deter Joel from traveling to Chamonix to at least toe the starting line once more. He was going for his fifth finish, but expectations were low considering that he still clearly was not fully recovered from the aftermath of this year's Hardrock. Be that as it may, his current condition actually put me closer to his running abilities for the day, so we actually ended up starting the race together and sticking together into the night, where we would eventually lose touch with each other on the second and while not the highest certainly the longest climb of the race to the top of Col du Bonhomme, ascending to the top of the pass for nearly 15 miles. The entire UTMB course, which takes you all the way around the Mont-Blanc massif, includes a total of 10 significant climbs totaling 33,000 feet of vertical gain and since it is a loop, 33,000 feet of descending as well. I mention this, because the descending is way more important (read painful) than the ascending. 

Flat-landers like myself may be able to simulate continuous climbing on a treadmill by setting a desired grade and just keep hammering it, but it is impossible to simulate the equally sustained downhill running one has to endure during this amazing race. As the saying goes, what goes up must come down and that is exactly what happens here, ten excruciating times. The most memorable descends are the extremely steep descend into Courmayeur, Italy, the perceived halfway point and major checkpoint (aid station) at mile 49 and the final 10 mile descent starting at Tete Aux Vents via La Flegere (the final checkpoint) into Chamonix. Many runners fall victim to the steep descent into Courmayeur, quite literally blowing up their quads too early in the race and reducing themselves to a lot of walking for the rest of the way at best and dropping out entirely at worst. Even with the race experience requirements to enter the UTMB lottery (at least one challenging 100 mile finish and another ultra finish), the dropout rate doesn't lie. This race is absolutely a graduate level event, even for experienced ultra runners. This year, nearly 1000 runners out of nearly 2500 starters DNF'd the race. As I found out later, Joel eventually had to drop out of the race due to the issue mentioned earlier. Here is hoping for your speedy recovery, Joel.

Joel and I had settled into a comfortable pace very early on, neither of us having ambitions beyond finishing the loop around the mountain. The first highlight of the race for me occurred as we entered St. Gervais at mile 13 of the race. As we were running down the center of town with spectators lining the streets and shouting "Allez Allez" as we passed, I also heard someone shout my name. Normally, that is actually a very common occurrence as our bibs have our first names in large print, encouraging strangers to shout your name with encouragement. This is one of the things that makes the UTMB so special. Everyone makes every single runner feel like they are special throughout the race, from start to finish and all along the way. Anyway, I was confused as my bib belt had actually slipped and was now on my back, thereby preventing anyone from actually seeing my name. I did a double-take into the direction of the person shouting my name. "No way!" I shouted, "Alan?" It was Alan, indeed. I met this guy 3 years earlier somewhere around Courmayeur as we were both struggling to keep moving. It turns out, misery loves company, so we joined forces for the next 50+ miles and finished the 2018 UTM together. We've stayed in touch ever since.

Alan had participated in this year's TDS, one of the major events of the week on par in difficulty with the UTMB. He had stuck around in St. Gervais to cheer on myself along with another couple of his friends. Did I mention I love the global trail running community? Alan would hit me up later on on Sunday, where we would meet all meet up for ice cold post beers in Chamonix. Thanks for being there, Alan, it really lifted my spirits early on in the race.

The next major highlight for me would be the next checkpoint at Les Contamines Montjoie at approx 20 miles. I would finally get to see my better half (and crew) for the first time. She had crewed me during my first UTMB six years earlier and had sworn never to be up for 48 hour straight ever again. Thankfully, a rental car made crew logistics for this event significantly more manageable. It may be worth noting at this point that crewing the UTMB is nearly as difficult as actually running it due to the massive logistics involved in getting yourself around the mountain and to and from the actual aid stations. If you have the time, explore the checkpoints ahead of time to help your crew figure out where to park, etc.

Thankfully, my wife mastered all of these issues beautifully and I got to see her just as I had hoped. To be honest, I almost never need any of the extra supplies I pack into a crew backpack. We have to carry a significant amount of mandatory gear, so the only things you really ever need aside from that is the food and drink from the aid stations. However, being a plant-based athlete comes with serious challenges in an event like this as Europeans love their meat and dairy (lots of Salami, cheeses and cakes at the aid stations). I decided a few years ago while having to lay down in the middle of a 50K in the Alps that sustenance is more important than principle. During events like this, if necessary, I will follow a vegetarian diet as that greatly reduces stress levels at aid stations for me. I make this decision based on the individual event, not as a blanket choice. So while I didn't need any of the gear my wife had brought, I did need the sight of her being there to give me another boost. She always know just what to say to keep me going. Not that I needed much encouragement this weekend, but as I got deeper into the race, it was always extremely helpful to have my wife voice in my ear, especially as I started to become more and more loopy during the second night of running and no sleep.

Due to the crew access restrictions, I would not see my wife until the 49 mile major checkpoint at Courmayeur, which meant that she could at least head back to our hotel and catch some zzz's through the night. My expected arrival time in Courmayeur wouldn't be until 8AM or so at the earliest. By the time I started the painful descent into Courmayeur, I had already completed 4 out of the 10 major climbs in the race. the fifth and arguably steepest climb of the race lay just ahead as we made our way out of Courmayeur and towards the next aid station at Refuge Bertone. But before I worried about that I needed to do some minor foot care, which required gear my wife carried for me. But where was she. I tried calling (cell coverage is very good, but you need to be sure your phone is ready for international roaming as you make your way in and out of three countries during the race) and finally got a hold of her. She was somewhere outside the building, very different from my previous experiences 3 and 6 years ago. Due to Covid precautions, race organizers kept crew in an area outside the building and that really threw me off, to be honest. I had spent the last hour descending into Courmayeur planning out this particular stop, everything I needed to do, etc. Not finding my wife for nearly 20 minutes and having to shuttle back and forth from outside the building back inside to take care of gear changes really threw me off. This never happens to me at UTMB, I always roll with it, but this really got into my head, at least while there. Ultimately, I finish just the essential maintenance and went outside to spend a few moments with my wife. I am glad I did. While I barely ate inside, she made sure I ate some pasta and drank some Coke. Her being there centered me again. Once I left the aid station, I was ready to take on the race again.

Having been here twice before, I was pretty prepared for the climbs, mentally at least. But since my training was rather lackluster when compared to my previous two tours, I was concerned about my physical ability to keep climbing. I guess there is some truth to the concept of muscle memory as that fear never materialized into serious issues related to climbing. However, the descending was a different story. My quads, feet (and to a lesser degree my calves) took quite a beating. I adjusted my pace accordingly and while that did not increase my race pace, it certainly allowed me to recover much faster after with minimal to no considerable muscle pain or soreness.

It would be another 50K until I would see my wife again at the Champex-Lac checkpoint, near the top of the seventh climb at mile 80ish. This climb felt like forever, mainly because I somehow thought this checkpoint would be in the valley. Instead, it took us straight up for 3+ miles to the village of Champex-Lac. One of these days, I will crew someone just so I can experience the atmosphere at UTMB from the other side of the tape.

Once again, parking was a challenge and my unexpected early arrival had Anya hauling @$$ to meet me. I decided to take my time and actually see the medical team at this aid station to retape my heels, which had given me trouble in my last race prior to UTM 10 days earlier. Thankfully, even the relentless terrain of the UTMB had only caused a couple of hotspots and taping them gave me renewed confidence. I started to get cold rather quickly. The weather had stayed cool and often chilly at the higher passages due to strong winds throughout the race. I needed to stay warm. My windbreaker and gloves did the job for most of the race. Only twice did I pull out my puffy jacket, which became too hot pretty quickly. Longer than usual stays at aid stations often meant a cooler core, requiring me to pick up the pace.

Somewhere around Champex-Lac, I connected with another runner as is often the case during the night stages of this beast. Frenchman Francois-Cyrille was great company through the entire night as we kept each other moving and, more importantly, awake through the second night. We would have actually finished the race together, if I had not had an urgent need to find a bathroom at the final checkpoint at La Flegere, which caused me to push ahead after we completed the final of the last three climbs to the top of Tete Aux Vent. But I'm getting a little ahead of myself.

I'm pretty sure, Francois -Cyrille and I left Champex-Lac together, ready to tackle the last three climbs together. I would see my wife again at Trient, just after the first of the final three climbs. Francois-Cyrille kept me moving and I kept him moving. To be honest I think I was the only one struggling to stay awake, so I'm very glad he was there to keep me awake. We made it to Trient in decent time, moving well on the climb, but slowing down significantly on the descents as our quads were shot at this point. It didn't matter, we knew we were going to finish this thing, no question, no doubt. The most challenging part for me was staying awake. There were moments of delirious conversations inside my head followed by replying out loud, which would ultimately make me wake up and wonder where I was, followed by seeing the craziest things along the trail, hallucinations galore. From people hanging out to fancy bars and restaurants on the side of the trail, there were so many things I saw that clearly weren't there. The only good thing about my hallucinations was the fact that I knew they weren't real. Unfortunately, that didn't keep them from happening or me questioning whether they were real this time. Obviously, they never were. 

In Trient, it was time for another reset. Anya had brought some cash, so I could go over the other side of the tent that housed a full service bar (read wine, beer and booze), a restaurant, a DJ and an impromptu Karaoke bar. The mood was festive, to say the least:-) I scored some boiled potatoes and salt from a local volunteer and went back to the other side of the tent were runners and crew were getting ready for the next stage. I decided here that I would not ask my wife to meet me again before the finish. It would give her time for another nap and I was confident at this point that nothing would derail my finish, other than falling asleep and falling off a mountain, which was a real possibility. Again, I am extremely thankful to Francois who had to wake me up more than once while we made the final two ascents of the race. Once day broke once again, I got a much needed energy boost and falling asleep was no longer an issue. Instead, I started to "smell the barn."

Once final stop at Vallorcine checkpoint and we were off to tackle the final climb up Tete Aux Vent before finally starting the descent into Chamonix. There is one more stop at La Flegere, but that is usually just needed for a mandatory bathroom stop, at least for me, before starting the steep 6 mile descent to the finish. I saw one more familiar face on the course, this time at the start of the Tete Aux Vents climb. Sondre Amdahl, a Norwegian ultra badass, whom I'd met during the Everest Trail Race in 2017. He was there supporting coaching clients as they tackled their UTMB race.

Once Francois and I topped out on the last climb, I needed to get going. I needed a bathroom break and La Flegere promised a proper bathroom. Francois and I said our goodbyes and I went on. I am happy to report he finished just behind me for his first UTMB finish. He has now finished, CCC, TDS and UTMB. What an animal!

As I started the final descent to the finish from La Flegere, I was excited. I was actually feeling like I could run again and so running I did. I know my spilts don't reflect it, but it felt like I was flying down the mountain. I was no longer walking, I was running the entire descent passing fellow runners along the way.I had no intention of leaving anything out there. Of course, I had received strict instructions from my wife to "get my @$$ off that mountain as fast as possible. This was a race after all!" So I did, with a huge smile on my face. I managed not to trip or roll my ankle and that was a huge success considering. I rolled into Chamonix feeling energized and endlessly happy. As I made the final turn to the finish, unbeknownst to me, my good buddy Brian Metzler (whom I'd met 6 years earlier at UTMB, of course) followed my to the finish with a camera, recording my final "sprint" through the finish line arch, but not until I spotted my wife near the finish to collect a much needed (for me) and deserved (for her) smooch. 

It was my slowest loop around the mountain, but probably my favorite of the three, but that's probably always true of the last one. We finished out the day with vegan burgers followed by a few pints with my UTMB family and friends. A huge congrats and shoutout to my buddy Tobias, who also finished his first UTMB. We spent the days leading up to the race keeping each other calm and collected as we prepped mentally and I'd say we succeeded:-) Until next time, Chamonix. Hopefully, I will be toeing the starting line once more, but if the lottery gods never shine on me again, I will visit you anyway. You are my favorite trail town. The only way that will ever change is if I get into Hardrock 100:-)

A huge shoutout to my wife for always being there to support me, in person and otherwise. I may be able to do these things alone, but they only become meaningful to me with her by my side. And to my son Mace and my brother Andy, who have been there in the past to support me and to all of my friends, Jerry, Paul, Jeff, Cary, Scott, Jeff D., and so many others who have been there to crew or pace and just generally be there to provide their encouragement and support. It's what keeps me participating in this sport we call ultrarunning.