Ultra Kraut Running

A I approached the completion of "The Last Great Race" series this summer, I realized that while it was too late to join Sean Nakamura in pursuing the "Great Eight" series since the Mohican 100 had already taken place, I could still join him at the Arkansas Traveller 100 in early October. While this wouldn't "count" towards any particular series, I really just thought it would be cool to actually run 7 of the 8 oldest 100 milers in the US in one Summer anyway. There would be no self-imposed pressure on myself, but first I had to see if there were even any slots left. To my surprise, there were still 5 spots left about 5 weeks out, so I signed up.

The Arkansas Traveller 100 Miler is one of the oldest and longest standing races for good reason. It is a race with amazing support and with too many aid stations to count and volunteers that definitely know what they're doing. The terrain is generally very runnable with a short bit of single track (on the Ouachita National  Recreation Trail) followed by lots of double track trail, jeep and forest roads. The course has about 12,000' of vertical gain and consists of a 16 mile loop followed by a 84ish mile out & back.

Training had been nonexistent leading into this race. While 4 weeks don't seem to be much time between 100 milers, I did want to get a few quality runs in. However, after being hit by a virus immediately following the completion of the Wasatch Front 100 Miler, I was taking a longer than usual break from running, 10 days to be exact. Once I got over the virus, I managed a few easy runs with friends with my longest run being a 14 miler in 90+ degree heat and humidity about 5 days out from race day, I mainly used the runs I did manage to reconnect with my usual running crew.

As race weekend approached, I decided to actually take my car to make the six and a half hour trip to  the Ouachita National Forest and spend the night leading up to the race in the rooftop tent on my Jeep. I loaded up my car camping supplies, my drop bags and my racing gear and made the trip to Arkansas early Friday morning. I'd stop halfway through my drive in Memphis to catch up with ultra legend Billy Simpson over a cup of coffee to convince him to run a few miles with me that weekend. When that failed, I settled for some very useful recce from the race before continuing on to Perryville, AR. 

The Arkansas Traveller 100 Mile Endurance Run is the eighth oldest 100 miler in the US and as such has been on my bucket list for a couple of years. To be honest, a big motivation for me was to join Sean Nakamura and Walt Handloser for just one more 100 miler this year. We'd all been pursuing our own challenges and after running the same six races this summer, I figured I'd join them for one more before calling it a day.

I arrived at Camp Ouachita at the edge of Ouachita National Forest in time for race check in. After getting weighted and signing in, I left to find myself a spot at the group campground about half a mile away at Lake Sylwia that had been reserved for us and paid for by the race organization. After setting up basecamp, I hitched a ride back to the Camp for the mandatory pre-race briefing. I decided not to drop off my drop bags until the next morning as I was prepping some Avocado sandwiches to be stored in small portable soft-sided coolers inside my drop bags. I had brought a large hardshell cooler with a couple of smaller cooling elements that I placed alongside the sandwiches. These sandwiches would be a welcome snack well into my race on Saturday.

At the pre-race briefing, I caught up with Sean and Jenny Nakamura and I even had a quick chat with Walt Handloser before he disappeared to catch some shuteye after another long road trip. The briefing was interesting and entertaining (there was a "jorts" competition involved) and after about 45 minutes, Sean and Jenny were kind enough to give me a lift back to the campground.

Once I geot back, I packed my racing kit, finalized my drop bags and got to cooking my pre-race dinner, vegan hot dogs with a big salad and Tahini dressing. By 7pm, I had pre-taped my feet and was laying inside my tent on top of my Jeep's roof watching a couple of episodes of Van Helsing before dozing off. I got nearly 8 hours of sleep before my alarm went off at 4:15AM.

I decided to break down camp prior to the race, so I wouldn't have to do it after running for 24+ hours. I failed to realize that it would mean sleeping in the front seat of my Jeep prior to being able to make the long drive back home again. We started the race on the main road just above the Camp and would finish right in front of the Camp.

I had three goals, to run sub 22 hours, sub 24 hours or, if things went wrong, just to finish under the 30 hour cutoff. Everything went according to plan for the first 50 miles, which has often been the case for me. At about mile 25, I had caught up to Sean and at this point, we both seemed to be running a fairly similar race pace, so we stayed together. In fact, we stayed together for the next 75 miles.

The race continued to go pretty well after Sean and I caught up with each other. I managed my food and hydration without any problems. I stuck to my usual schedule of a Spring Energy gel every 45 minutes and Salt as needed, usually every hour or so. In order to avoid having to mix my own caloric drink, I decided to reply on the aid stations, instead. AT100 provides Gatorade at its aid stations and since I'm no longer used to the large amounts of sugar in my drink, I opted to go half water half Gatorade in my bottles for the entirety of the race, which seemed to work pretty well.

The animal encounter highlight of the race was something that apparently everyone but me knew about and wasn't freaked out by at all, unlike me. As Sean and I were running down another jeep road together, maybe mile 40 or so, a runner ahead yelled something like "watch out, there is a blahblahblah on the trail". I turned to Sean "what'd he say?", he said "Watch out, there is a Tarantula in the middle of the trail". "WTF" was all I could mutter in disbelief. We're not in the jungle, why would there be Tarantulas. He must be joking, probably just a larger than usual spider. Nope, it was a freakin' Taratula! Just what a guy scared of spiders and snakes needs to see before running through a large dark forest at night, a big hairy Tarantula just crossing the trail 1 foot in front of him. This is the stuff nightmare are made of and now all I would be thinking of at night was not to step on or trip over one of these cat sized spiders that could probably just lift my foot up if I accidentally stepped on them.

What didn't work well for the second race in a row were my feet. While we cruised into mile 50 in ten and a half hours, well on pace to run sub 24 hours, my feet had already started to develop two hotspots, both on my right foot. The first one on the edge of my heel and the second one at the bottom of my right foot, just below the toes and inside the ball of my foot. This would be my downfall once again. I attribute my foot issues largely to the extreme humidity on race day and while this was only the second time I had this issue, it did happen in my last two races, so it is time to reevaluate my blister prevention and treatment strategies. I can no longer ignore it as it is having a serious impact on my finishing times.

As "luck" would have it, Sean was experiencing very similar issues, so we would spend 75 miles together, jointly suffering through the final 50 miles. The real struggle didn't start until 35-40 miles to go, but it would reduce us both to mostly walking. While it sucked to be having these issues, I was glad to be running alongside Sean. We got to share some quality hours together, which felt like a perfect conclusion to my summer. After 26 hours and 39 minutes, we finally crossed the finish line to earn our buckles and to complete our respective challenges. While it may take some time to fully process this summer of running, I am ecstatic to have stayed healthy enough to complete it. It has confirmed one important lesson for me: You are capable of a heck of a lot more than you think you are.

"The Last Great Race" plus one is now completed and while I will enjoy this feeling for a while over a beer or two, I cannot wait to plan for the next big challenge. Well, some of that planning has already commenced:-)

Phew, what an amazing ride...uhum...run it has been this summer. 14 weeks, 6 races, 600 miles and 110,000' of vertical gain. The six oldest 100 milers in the United States, to be exact, Old Dominion 100, Western States 100, Vermont 100, Angeles Crest 100, Leadville 100 and Wasatch Front 100, and in the process I completed the Western Slam, The Grand Slam of Ultrarunning and The Last Great Race.

The Wasatch Front 100 Mile Endurance Run was the final piece in the puzzle and while I already gave away that I accomplished my goal, it was definitely the most difficult of all "puzzle pieces". But it wasn't just because it was the last of the six or because of the 24,000' of vertical gain or because of the extremely varied technical terrain. Most likely, it was a combination of all plus I suspect I started to battle cold symptoms early on in the race that turned full on head cold the day after the race.

My buddy Jerry, whom agreed to crew and pace me during this final stage of the challenge, and I arrived in Salt Lake City, Utah on Thursday afternoon, just in time to pick up my race packet and to attend the mandatory pre-race briefing, This briefing was by far the briefest of all race briefings I attended all summer. Jerry and I were joined by fellow "Last Great Racer" Sean Nakamura and headed to a great local vegan joint, Vertical Diner.

I devoured a breakfast combo with a stack of pancakes and washed it down with a local brew, you know, just your typical pre-race dinner. Afterwards, we headed straight for our hotel to lay out and prep our gear for race morning and to catch as much sleep as possible. I have to admit, I was quite nervous about this race, but not because of its elevation profile or the terrain. It was because of the various social media posts and race reports mentioning an infamous section of trail between miles 3 and 7, where runners apparently regularly encountered aggressive wasps or hornets.

For someone highly allergic, this had me worried about an early race departure. I did what I could to improve my chances of finishing. I renewed my Auvi-Q (epinephrine injection), carried one one me and left one with my crew. I also planned to run off the front along with the leader group to avoid getting caught in a conga line going up the first major climb that covered the mile 3-7 stretch. I'm happy to report that this plan worked out great. Then again, it appeared there was no stinging insect activity at the race this year, so it seems everyone as safe.

Jerry and I got to the race start with about 30 minutes to spare on race morning. I managed to find Sean so I could wish him luck for the final leg and after he returned the wish for good fortune, we were off. I settled in just behind he front pack to make sure I had room to escape to should the hornets from heel decide to strike. Thankfully, that never happened. Instead, I enjoyed great conversation with a guy I shall call "Coach Adam" as we climbed the first 7 miles of the race. As we approached the top, I decided to pull back on my pace a little and to settle into a slower pace. I also started to stop frequently to take photos of the amazing scenery surrounding us.

My goal for this race was first and foremost to finish within the 36 hour cutoff to ensure completion of "The Last Great Race" and if things felt good, I would go for a sub 30 hour finish. The early stages of the race looked and felt pretty good. That was greatly helped by a cooler than expected morning due to an unexpected rainstorm that dropped temperatures significantly. In fact, these cooler temps also almost became my undoing. Because of the forecast calling for ridiculously high temperatures, I had made the rookie mistake of leaving all of my extra layers with my crew, whom I would not see for another 4-5 hours. I was only 13 miles into the race and my hands were turning blue as we ran along rainy ridge lines.

Thanks to a fellow runner and all around good samaritan, I ended up with a fancy long sleeve shirt that I tied around my waist as I continued to make my way along the course. By the time I finally made it to mile 30 or so to meet my crew, I swapped the shirt (which I thankfully did not really end up needing) for my trusty Patagonia Houdini. I enjoyed catching up with Jerry, but I was already dealing with foot issues way too early in the race, which was also uncharacteristic for my summer of races so far.

In fact, Jerry wasn't supposed to join me until mile 68, but because I was already dealing with issues, he offered to jump in much earlier at mile 45 to run the final 55 miles with me. My pace actually wasn't that bad even with me taking more than usual time in aid stations to try to regroup, but as my feet deteriorated I was losing my motivation to push. When I arrived at mile 45, I had to take off my shoes and socks to let them dry out. I had managed to develop trench foot over just 45 miles. I decided to let me feet air and dry out for 30 minutes before putting on fresh socks and shoes. I had started with Altra Timp 1.5 and now changed into Lone Peak 4.0. Side note, one of the Altra co-founders, Brian Beckstead, shared a cool story with me after the race about how the Lone Peaks were originally developed for Wasatch after he developed similar foot issues to mine at his first go at Wasatch.

I had heard a lot about how scenic this race course was and the Wasatch Front Range certainly did not disappoint. I found myself stopping quite frequently to take in the scenery and to take pics. Only after I started to slow down due to foot issues did I stop taking as many pics. Thankfully, at that point I had captured the beauty that is Wasatch already.

While the sock and shoe change did make a difference in how I felt, the damage had been done already been done with hotspots on the ball of my foot slowly turning to stinging blisters. While climbing did not hurt my feet, descending became more and more painful, especially on the mostly technical terrain. Thankfully, Jerry kept me on task. We may not have been covering ground very fast, but we did keep moving.

Jerry was a trooper, he definitely got some serious "time on feet" out there with me. And because he jumped in so early he also got to see a lot more of the course than he otherwise would have. You're welcome, Jerry:-)

Jerry continued to pull me along the course. Thankfully, then temperatures stayed fairly mild and the rain held off for the remainder of the race. Jerry even had calculated that we still had a shot at sub 30 hours 60+ miles in, but my drive to beat up my feet even more had long faded. I was determined to finish, that never changed, but I wasn't determined to make it even more agonizing than it already was. My feet were shredded, so we continued to put one foot in front of the other.

When the second day finally broke, I was even able to run some, but the hopes of picking up the pace were squashed pretty quickly when the short section of smooth downhill quickly turned to steep and boulder covered trail. So much for making up time.

This race course never allowed me to find any kind of rhythm. The terrain was ever changing, beautiful, but unforgiving. Jerry and I continued to shuffle forward even as the day turned hot. In fact, the final 10K were more or less exposed without any shade. It did not matter, I knew were were going to have plenty of time to make it under the cutoff and I was ready to get this thing done. When Jerry and I finally made the final turn into the finish chute, the clock hit 32 hours and 32 minutes. And just like that, I had not only completed the Wasatch Front 100 Miler, but also the six oldest 100 mile races in the United States over the course of 14 weeks. The Last Great Race, the Grand Slam of Ultrarunning and the Western Slam were done and I had become only the 39th person to do so in over 30 years. It will take some time to process this summer. I think I may even do a brief write-up specifically about this summer and how it all came together and played out rather than another race blow by blow. For now, it's time for some rest and recovery...until the Arkansas Traveler 100 Miler in October, the 7th oldest race in the US:-)

Friend and fellow Huntsvillian Jerry Abbott also got into the Leadville 100 and had the same plans as me, get there early and acclimate. A friend of his was kind enough to let us stay in his massive camper, so we set up permanent camp at May Queen campground on Turquoise Lake about 25 minutes outside Leadville, CO, where the actual race would start and finish.

My plan was simple, stay at high altitude for 10 days leading up to the race and hike/run a couple of 14ers in an effort to adjust to the thinner air and to avoid altitude sickness and anything else that comes with running at high altitude when you live at 650'. I kept an eye on my resting heartrate and as expected and hoped, it started 10 beats higher than usual and came down 10 beats after having stayed at 10000' for about a week. 

I only struggled with the altitude during our climb up Mount Massive, when I developed a headache as we approached the summit. Luckily, it has subsided by the next morning with a little help from Mr. BC Powder. The time leading up to race day was both pretty uneventful (as I experienced no mayor physical issues) and exciting (how can it not be when you're surrounded by 14000' mountain peaks all around you). This place is nothing short of amazing and I was stoked to be here once again. As race day got closer and closer, I got more and more nervous. However, there was one thing that happened that actually refocused my nervous energy for a day. The weekend prior to the Leadville 100, friends of mine arranged an opportunity for me to check another item off my bucket list. I never expected to ever do this, but sometimes things just work out and on Sunday morning, bright and early, I lined up at a temporary pin in downtown Buena Vista, CO to meet my donkey "Buddy" so we could run the Gold Rush Days Pack Burro Race 13 Miler. I have never had so much fun and frustration in the span of 3 hours:-)

As we entered race week, I started to finalize my race plans. I felt confident that I had acclimated sufficiently, so that altitude sickness and its common symptoms would not plaque me during the race, not even during the Hope Pass crossing. While I was correct on that account, one remaining factor definitely affected me on race day, but more about that later.

Both my excitement and nervousness rose exponentially as race week progressed. The town of Leadville slowly filled with runners and crew and it became more and more difficult to get a cup of coffee in a timely manner at the local coffee shop. But as well all know, waiting for a good cup of coffee is almost always worth the wait. I mostly spent race week keeping my feet up and being lazy. I felt rest was more important than any more activities.

When the mandatory pre-race briefing finally rolled around on Friday morning, I was ready to go. Jerry and I made sure to cut out just in time to be first in line at the expo at 11AM sharp to pick up our race packets and check out the extensive number of shops that lined the expo grounds. When you're an ultra runner, it was also extremely difficult not be let the fan boy all hang out. Clare Gallagher, Magda Boulet, Anton Krupicka and David Goggins were just some of the folks one would run across before, during and after the race.

After meeting up with friends and fellow runners, I quickly left the expo and headed back to the camper. The plan was to eat dinner by 5PM and to hit the sack early enough to get some sleep before the 2AM wakeup call.

As expected, I didn't manage much sleep. While I did call it a night pretty quickly after Jerry's wife Wonda prepared a delicious carb loading pasta dinner, I just could not get my mind to quiet. So I laid there restlessly until it as time to get up. Thankfully, I got a full night sleep a night earlier, as I usually expect to have the pre-race jitters and plan accordingly:-)

On race morning, all that was left to do was tape my feet, grab all of my gear and decide what layers to wear for the 38 degree 4AM start. The energy at the race start was electric and something that reminded me of the high energy at European ultra races. I managed to snap the obligatory pre-race photo with Sean, the only other "Last Great Racer", but when Ken Chlouber finally shot the shotgun to signal the race start, I was pretty much on my own, meaning I saw no familiar faces running near me. In fact, I wouldn't see another familiar runner until after the 50 mile turnaround point of the out and back course. 

 While I ran the first 13 miles until May Queen aid station exactly as planned (to hit the sub 25 hour goal), I realized very quickly that something was off. Running downhill should not feel so hard. Next up was the powerline climb. I settled into a decent hiking ace as we continued to climb. By the time we got to the top, I was ready to let lose on the downhill. My quads had no problems handling the descent, so I made up some decent time. By the time I finally arrived at the Outward Bound aid station, I was moving a lot slower than expected. I wouldn't fare much better during the next section to the Half Pipe aid station. What was meant to be flat easy running turned into something closer to a death march. WTF, I was only 25 miles into this thing and already unable to run? My heartrate was severely spiking into the high 150s even though i was barely running 10-11 minute miles. Rather than run entirely by feel, I decided to start monitoring my heartrate. I would start walking as soon as I hit 150s and continue to walk until it lowered to 130s. I'd start running until I hit the 150s and once again start walking, and on and on. 

I now figured I'd hike the uphills briskly and run the downhills as fast as possible to try to make up time somehow. I maintained this strategy until the 50 mile turnaround. Rewind to mile 38. I was rolling into the Twin Lakes aid station for the first time. If my spirits were low, I don't remember it, because the energy in this aid station made me forget all that. So many spectators and crew lining the path, the energy was contagious. 

 I decided to take my time in aid stations to allow as much recovery as possible before continuing on. I was thankful for my crew Ashley Saloga and pacer Brian Metzler for taking care of me all day and all night. They provided the boost and support I needed to keep going when thing started to get difficult. I left Twin Lakes feeling refreshed and ready to take on Hope Pass for the first time. I settled into a steady hiking pass, but as I got closer to the top, I was finally passed by a couple of other runners as I struggled to get sufficient oxygen into my lungs.

 Once I reached Hope Pass aid station, I was ready to hit the rest button once more. A bowl of broth and some mashed potatoes later, I was on my way to start the final climb across the pass before descending 5 miles into Winfield aid station, the halfway and turnaround point for the Leadville 100.

Once again, I was glad to see me crew and even happier to finally pick up my pacer to drag my ass across Hope Pass once more. After some time to refuel and rest, Brian and I started the climb back out of Winfield to cross Hope Pass once more. It had taken me 11:30 hours to cover the first 50 miles, which meant that I was still on track to break 25 hours. I would reassess that goal in another 2 miles, when I would arrive at Twin Lakes once again 62 miles into the race.

 The second climb across the pass was way more difficult than the first. I had slowed significantly, even with Brian doing a fantastic job to keep me moving. By the time we finally made my way over the pass, in and out of Hope Pass aid station the second time and back to Twin Lakes aid station, I had lost more than 40 minutes and the sub 25 hour goal was no longer a reality. After a short pow wow with my crew and pacer, I made my peace with it. 

 However, knowing that I would not break 25 hours also affected how I felt physically and mentally. My motivation to move was just a bit lower than before. Before I knew it, I had fallen in with another runner and his pacer as we made our way through the early stages of the night. This was a tremendous help for me as I started to get sleepy. A lively conversation between the three of us kept me engaged and more importantly, awake. The other runner had sustained a hip injury, so we spent the next 16 miles almost exclusively walking. I was completely fine with that.

 By mile 78, Brian would be pick me back up to take me over the powerline section one last time and all the way to the finish. He was a trooper as I was no longer either capable or motivated to run. Every time we'd try to shuffle or resemble any running motion, my breathing would accelerate and become labored and I'd slow down again. Temps had now dropped into the 30s and I was wearing a puffer and gloves to stay warm. But we continued on, one step in front of another. 

 I can't say it was easy, but it wasn't painful either. It just took a bit longer than I had hoped. By the time Brian and I turned onto the final .7 mile stretch leading to the finish, I was ready to be done. With the finish line in sight, I was able to break into a slow shuffle. I crossed the finish line in 28 hours and 10 minutes, happy to be one of the 44% of finishers to have completed the Leadville 100 this year and to be one step closer to completing "The Last Great Race".

 Thanks to Ashley Saloga and Brian Metzler for being my crew/pacer for this adventure and for pulling me through. I couldn't have done it without you guys. Thanks also to the entire crew of volunteers that took care of us along the way. The Leadville 100 was quite the memorable experience. The altitude is no joke and I now understand the consistently low finisher rates. Three more weeks and it's time for the last race in the series, The Wasatch Front 100.