Ultra Kraut Running

Well, leave it to Laz to create plenty of buzz, excitement and nervousness by making some subtle changes to last years course. The sections were essentially the same as last year, but the order was changed around and there may have been a section run in reverse.

As the race got started, I had lined up somewhere in the middle of the pack, maybe just at the tail end of the front third of runners. I was looking around for familiar faces and kinda fell in line with some of them as we made our way up the gentle 4 mile slope that was the first climb of the day. The usual train of runners had formed, ensuring that I wasn't going to be running too fast too early in the race and as the trail widened, I started to pick up the pace just a little. A quick stop at the first aid station and I was on my way again. This next section was all runnable as we approached the first mayor highlights of the day, Testicle Spectacle followed by Meth Hill. Everything looked way more overgrown than last year.

I put on some work gloves and started my descent down Spectacle. About halfway down, David Riddle came past me in the opposite direction, leading the race just as I had expected. However, another runner followed by a large lead pack were hot on his heels. I was surprised to see them this close, but David had told me that he had initially missed the turn down Spectacle, losing some valuable time before realizing the directional error. Runners kept passing me in the opposite direction and I quickly lost count. I really was surprised just how many runners were ahead of me at this point. It seemed the course change had either invited runners to "bank some time" early or I was moving much slower than I thought. Oh well, I thought, there's a lot of race left to do and a lot of things can change. Boy, was I right!

I continued my descent, got my bib punched at the next aid station and returned back the way I came. Up and over the hill and down Meth Hill I went, butt-sliding through briars until we finally entered some runnable terrain again before arriving at the prison at the bottom of Rat Jaw. A "minor" clarification on the race rules (i.e. stay under the powerlines at all times) combined with 8ft tall briars all along the Rat Jaw power line cut that had not been cut this year led to some serious doubt in my mind. I'm not gonna lie, there was some serious cursing going on before, during and after this section. I may owe a few peeps with sensitive ears an apology for my choice of language at times.

I refilled my bottles at the prison, only to realize that I had not only lost all of my salt, I had also lost my flask with nutrition, leaving me with a small ziplock bag with chews and my two water bottles, not what I would call a sound nutrition plan for what lay ahead. Here, I caught up to DeWayne and we started the ascent up Rat Jaw together. Initially, the briars were not too terrible. Don't get me wrong, there was no path and they were bad, but it would only get worse as we continued to climb. Just as we cross at the "halfway point", a little spot were the powerline cut levels out for just a moment, one of my worst fears came true. I got stung my a yellow jacket. I am somewhat allergic, but thankfully, I had not stepped into a nest, so two Benadryl seemed to do the trick. I'm sure the kick of natural adrenaline I experienced in that moment helped. The briar cuts also started to mask the pain of the sting.

As we continued to climb, I started to lift my head to look ahead. I was trying to spot the cliff that runners had to get around before they could continue their track to the fire tower. I literally could not believe my eyes. There was David Riddle just about 100 yards above us, and 30 yards behind him was a large train of about 30 or so runners, seemingly standing still. Within a few minutes, we caught up to them. We weren't sure why they weren't moving and then it hit me, they were moving, the briars were just slowing them down that much.

As more minutes passed I became increasingly impatient. Those who know me would not be surprised at that statement:-) I turned to DeWayne and suggested we cut our own way past this large group. Just I said it, Rob had caught up to us and literally threw himself backwards into the briars, DeWayne and I pushing ahead right behind him. Rob continued to push throw and DeWayne and I and a couple of others followed. Within a couple of minutes we had movd past the train of runners and were making slow but significant progress, extending our lead over the other group. Rob continued to do the majority of the work, sacrificing his body as we pushed behind, trampling down the briars. As we pushed past the cliff, David had joined in with us to get to the top. David was running in second place at this time with the race leader about 15 minutes ahead of us.

I finally stepped up to take the lead after Rob had done the majority of the work. The briars were relentless and with every cut, my cursing got louder. We continued on and finally crested Rat Jaw to the cheers of a large crowd of onlookers and supporters. I was now in third place overall. I had never before been so glad to have been done with a section of a race. We continued uphill and up to the top of the fire tower to collect another punch before heading down the jeep road to the next aid station. This would be one of the easier course sections. There was some jockeying for position on the downhill to the aid station, but I was excited to still be running in the top 5 as I left the next aid station. My secret goal of a top ten finish seemed very realistic at this point. I knew what lay ahead and figured nutrition would be my only challenge, since I had lost all of mine. The next bib punch would be at the Garden Spot, so I settled into a steady pace. Ah, there was the gate that gave me pause last year when I had to resort to the map to confirm that I indeed needed to climb across it to continue on. This year, we came from he opposite direction, but no confusion here.

Then my troubles began. Eventual third place finisher Ihara Tomokazu was running just ahead of me as the trail appeared to split in a "Y". I know, I know, it's not a intersection, just a short spur going off to the left while the course continued up on the left towards the Garden Spot, but that's not how it looked to me in that situation. I grabbed the map, even yelling at Ihara to stop and turn around. He either ignored me or did not hear me. Either way, I sure am glad he didn't.

I checked the map and noticed a Y-intersection noting the left spur as a red trail, so I needed to go right, I figured. I made two mistakes. First, I got the distances wrong or else I should have noticed that I passed the red (off course) trail much earlier. Second, I did not pay attention to the topographical detail on the map. I knew I needed to climb to the Garden Spot, but I figured the trail would just dip and then climb again. It did, about three quarters of a mile later and after two T-intersections. Why did I not turn around immediately. Well, I figured no arrow at the Y-intersection, so maybe no arrows here either? I don't know. When I finally decided to turn around, DeWayne showed up, oh good, I was on the right trail after all. Nope, he was lost, too. How is that even possible? Anyway, I finally tracked back. I figured I lost about an hour total. Got confused one more time at the next directional arrow and then finally made it to the Garden Spot for my punch. I was the 75th runner to receive my punch, what??? 70 runners had passed my while I was off course. I was deflated.

So much for a top ten finish. This one gnawed on me for a long while. I had tried to make up time and that combined with the lack of salt and fuel put me at the lowest point for the day. Luckily I caught up to Dana and Jeff Deaton, so I ran/shuffled along for a while, dropped back, picked up pace again and so on. As I started to climb the backside of Bird Mountain, I decided that I was done once I got to Laz. I had gotten my finish last year, I was tired, why would I want to continue? I spent the better part of the climb and even the descent in an inner monologue of why I was right. There was nothing inside me disagreeing with me. As I was going on, I realized that this was typical DNF talk, justifying quitting to yourself. I was done, but I decided to not call it quits until after I drank my Pepsi and sparkling water that I had stashed in a drop bag. I never ever use drop bags for a 50K, but I had decided to bring trekking poles to train for my Everest race, so I figured I'd stash some refreshments as well. When I finally got there, the drinks were still cold inside my little plastic drop bag.

All day, most things seemed to have gone wrong for me, but now my drinks were somehow still icecold after laying outside for nearly 10 hours. I drank the water, the soda and two containers of coconut water, then I went to tell Laz I was done. I had chatted with Luke Hough and a few volunteers convincing them that I was making the right direction. Luke, figuring that I knew what I wanted, let it go. The other volunteers, however, would not. And when Laz chimed in as well, reminding me of the dreaded DNF regret, I had already decided to go on. I had enough time, my body wasn't as battered as I had expected and another finish would be much sweeter than conceding defeat.

I grabbed my trekking poles and took off. I made it across Chimney Top in less than three hours and clocked my fastest split from the final timing mat to the finish. In the end, I crossed the finish line in just over 11:30 hours, elated to get another "Croix de Barque", this time with a nice shiny star for a second finish. Thanks again to an amazing group of volunteers and for Laz and company for thinking up this and other crazy events for us to find and push beyond our limits. Congrats to everyone that finished or attempted to finish. Will I be back next year? Who knows...

A race like this requires some serious training and commitment and while I've previously trained for extremely challenging ultras (Ultra-Trail Du Mont-Blanc 106M and Cruel Jewel 105M races), I kicked it up a couple of notches for this one. I prescribed myself a heavy dose of long and steep hill repeats. In the 6 months leading up to race day I climbed a total of 300,000ft vertical gain. While I didn't focus on mileage as much, I still ran at least 6 times a week with quite a few twoadays during peak training weeks for a total of almost 2,000 miles leading up to the race. Luckily, I was also able to sprinkle quite a few tough mountain races from 50k-100k distances throughout my training cycle to break up the monotony of repetitive hill repeats on our local mountain(s). We scheduled a serious 3 week taper with heavy focus on rest to allow our legs to recover from the months of miles and elevation gain. Early on in my training I also managed to hit the gym twice a week for core training, but that fizzled a litte when I started to do twoaday runs to get more miles and vert.

But the training regimen wasn't the only important factor to prepare for this beast. Similar to European mountain races, Fat Dog also requires a long list of mandatory safety gear along with a minimum of 2 liters of water due to an extensive number of aid stations that are 10 miles or further apart. That amount of gear and water requires some serious planning to ensure both highly functional gear that needs to weigh as little as possible. Some of the mandatory items include a waterproof rain jacket, long pants, a heavy midlayer, hat, gloves, emergency whistle and blanket, headlamp and various other items. I meticulously tracked every piece of gear in a giant spreadsheet listing its exact weight and other information.

Finally, we needed to plan our travel and lodging very carefully. Our trip included multi leg flights across the North American continent, 4 different lodging locations and a rental car large enough to hold all of our gear. Thankfully, Paul's longtime friend and fellow ultrarunner John Gray offered to crew and even pace us some during this adventure. That definitely provided some peace of mind.

After a full day of travel, Paul and I arrived at Vancouver International Airport, where John was already waiting for us at the car rental counter. While Vancouver airport was pretty efficient in getting us off the plane, everything else was pretty slow, especially picking up our rental car. In any case, it all ended well as we picked up a German SUV that provided just enough space for all of our gear. We spent the first night in Vancouver in a cool little B&B before heading 2 hours East towards Manning Park and Manning Lodge near the race start to pick up our race packets. Later that day, we headed to Princeton, BC about 45 minutes east of Manning, where we would spend the night in a small motel to attend the mandatory pre-race briefing that evening. 

A large number of forest fires in the Northwest had created extremely bad air quality for the past 2 weeks and flying into Vancouver and driving east, visibility was so poor, we could barely make out any of the nearby mountains. As a result, there was a real risk that the race would have to be cancelled due to dangerous air quality. Thankfully, the RD Heather McDonald was able to confirm that it wasn't expected to get any worse and that we would b able to go ahead with the race. However, warnings had been emailed to all participants a few days earlier suggesting that anyone with Asthma not attempt the race at all this year.

Since John would crew and drive us, we were able to eliminate the hassle of catching the various shuttles. We grabbed an early dinner at a local gym/restaurant (yup, you read that correctly and it was both in the same room as well) before heading to the motel to make final gear preparations and get an early night's sleep.

Even though the race didn't start until 10AM on Friday morning, we had set our alarm for 6AM to have enough time to shower, get ready and eat a proper breakfast before driving 1 hour 15 minutes to the race start. About 200 runners were slowly assembling near the starting line located in the middle of nowhere. It was a beautiful spot and we knew that we would be immediately starting a 5000ft climb after starting the race. To make matters worse, temps had already climbed well north of 80 degrees by the time the RD sent us off. This as highly unusual for this region and this time of year. I had planned for freezing cold overnight temps, freak lightning and rain storms and muddy conditions. Instead, we were dealt super hot, dry and smoky conditions.

Just before the start of the race, I was able to gather some of my fellow Southeast trail runners for a group pic, before Heather McDonald sent us on our way. Everyone seemed in great spirits, but I was still wondering whether I had done enough to get ready for this beast. Thankfully, the smoke really only bothered me on a few occasions and usually at the higher elevations, but the heat really got to all of us from the get go. Folks stepped off the trail early on to slow down their heart rates. By mile 20, people were either puking off the side of the trail or slouched over on a tree stomp for a rest break.

Paul and I had planned to run together for the entire race as long as both of us were moving at a reasonable pace. We only wanted to deviate from this plan if either one of us had problems keeping at least cutoff pace. Thankfully, that was not the case and we were able to stay together for the entire duration of the race.

That does mean we didn't have any problems or low points during this race, oh no, there was plenty of that. For starters, as mentioned earlier, the race started off with the first of 4 major climbs, 5000ft straight up over 10 miles. As we continued to climb, temperatures rose ride along with it. We didn't feel it right away due to the higher elevation, but as we arrived at the bottom on the other side of the first climb around mile 20, the heat had become somewhat oppressive, just in time to start our second major climb of 3000ft over the next 10 miles. 

It was during the early stages of this second major climb during what was likely the hottest part of the day about 6 hours into the race that I witnessed the second most carnage of the day. Runners were sitting on the side of the trail trying to lower their heart rates, overheated, nauseous, you name it, they had it. Unfortunately, Paul was also affected. He started projectile vomiting all fluids he had taken in over the last couple of hours. We figured it must have been too much water and not enough electrolytes, causing his stomach to slosh and eventually empty itself as the heart rate and heat continued to climb. Thankfully, it acted like a reset button for Paul and an hour or so later after slowly taking in more electrolytes and salt along with water, Paul started to bounce back. 

Luckily, I never had any issues with fluid or food intake other than occasionally falling behind on nutrition. I would slow and tire, but I never had any stomach issues. That, as they say, seems to always the only constant in my races. Unfortunately, I also experience another constant when having to run extensive downhills...blisters. No matter how many repeats I run or training races I schedule, none of them ever prepare me adequately for the sustained downhill running that is required at events like UTMB, Fat Dog, and other similar events. A 100K may get me close to having foot problems, but never to this extent. In anticipation of this issue, I had brought 5 pairs of socks and 4 pairs of shoes to change into at miles 40, 70 and 100. I cleaned my feet each time and generously reapplied 2Toms every time as well. In addition, I had been in the habit of nearly completely removing my foot calluses about a week prior to each major event. None of this seemed to matter or help.

By the time we reached the backside of the second climb around mile 41, hotspots had started to develop. There weren't any blisters, yet, so I was hopeful that new socks and shoes would self-correct  or remedy any hotspots. Those hopes were squashed pretty soon after. In fact, I even started to adjust my gait on the downhills to reduce the impact on my heels and land more on my midfoot/forefoot. This just added more hotspots/blisters, now also evident under my forefoot and on the inside of my big toes. However, all this was still manageable at this stage and the amazing scenery deserves most of the credit for that.

While I had an "A" goal of running and earning a sub 36 hour buckle, those plans were quickly corrected when we finished the first climb in terrible heat and smoke. I know everyone seemed to react differently to the smoke. Some were unfazed, I, on the other hand, started to have slight sinus issues that got worse as the day wore on. Nothing debilitating, just something to add to the difficulty of an event like this. Even before the time Paul started puking, we both had realized that sub 36 was likely unattainable at this point. Once we did start to discuss the goal, we both agreed that sub 40 should still be possible. I did not care one way or the other. Thankfully, the air had improved somewhat, allowing us some spectacular views on several occasions. I tried to capture these views with the photos in this blog, but you can never really truly replicate the vastness of majestic mountain ranges. The views are what kept me going and staying positive...mostly.

As with any 100 miler, there are dark times. These dark times usually don't start for me until I've been sufficiently sleep deprived, i.e. I have struggled midway through the first night. At that point, I usually take a Vivarin caffeine pill, chew it and wash it down with fluids for a quicker boost. That usually gets me over the hump. For me, dark moments usually don't start until a bit after that. As my mind becomes less functional and hallucinations start to take hold, I start to doubt myself. Hallucinations have become a serious issue for me over the last couple of years. I am fully aware that they are hallucinations, but I am unable to turn them off. Usually, they become extreme as I approach the second night of an event without sleep. In fact, I see more hallucinations than real objects at that point. There are writings all over the ground, every rock, stick, and other real objects becomes something shiny or manmade, and I mean everything. This was fun when it first happened, now it's more of a nuisance as I try to turn it off to focus on the trail ahead of me. Before arriving at mile 41 aid station, runners have to complete a fun river crossing that was secured with rope and safety volunteers. It felt pretty good to cool of our feet, but it was also great to know that dry socks and shoes would be waiting just a few short miles away at the 41 mile aid station.

We arrived at aid station 41 at the backside of climb 2 a bit over 12 hours into the race. It was time for the first sock and shoe change and to see our crew/pacer John for the first time. It is always great to see a familiar face during an event like this. But to add to that, the aid station volunteers were all fantastic and encouraging, as was everyone else hanging out to support their own runners. Words of encouragement and support could always be heard as we entered or left an aid station. Every time we hit an aid station, Paul and I would make sure to get enough fluids and food whenever available. 

There were a total of 6 sections, where there were 10 or more miles between aid stations and that meant that you needed to carry more than just a couple of bottles of water. Reluctantly, I had opted to add a hydration bladder to my already jam-packed running pack. I wanted to make sure to have my hands free at all times to use my trekking poles and carrying 4 bottles would have made that impossible without stopping and swapping bottles, etc. Even though I carried gels along with some chews, my main nutrition came from Sword. I carried ziplock baggies of that hydration mix with me and would always have at least one bottle filled with Sword all day. Later on in the race I would fill both bottles with Sword to get enough nutrition. I am excited to say that I never got sick of the taste, ever!

Paul and I left aid station 41 and started the third major climb of the race in total darkness, which meant the use of headlamps was necessary. The third climb went up to nearly 7000ft again, but this time, there were a few downhills thrown in, making this the second longest climb of the day with nearly 15 miles. Luckily, we reached the top of this climb by the time day broke and we were treated to an amazing sunrise. I couldn't stop taking pictures. 

By the time we reached the 73 mile aid station, we had descended a total of 4000 feet over just 10 miles. I now had blisters. No matter, I continued my ritual. Take off shoes and socks, use baby wipes to clean feet, let dry, reapply 2Toms, put on new socks and shoes. Paul and I went on to the next aid station 5 miles away, where John would wait to meet us again. The only way to run these races is to break them down into small chunks, aid station to aid station, never having to "think" further than 13 miles at a time. At least that's the only way I can mentally manage these events.

Paul and I were still moving fairly well at this point. I managed a quick bathroom break at mile 78 before we continued on to the next aid station, just a short 2 miles away on the shoulder of a Highway. This was only the second road section of the day (the first was also a short 2 miles in the middle of the night after the river crossing). We ran our fastest mile of the race during this section and I realized that Paul was on a mission. I could barely keep up with him, but I wasn't going to admit that:-)

Arriving at mile 80 AS, we knew we had a rough (read: runnable) 13 mile section ahead of us. We ate aplenty and filled up all of our water reserves before taking off on the infamous (mosquito infested) Skagit Park section along the river. Only it did not even feel runnable to us at this point. Paul still appeared to have way more energy than me, so he asked me to lead as to make sure he wasn't going to run away. I had resorted to the ultra shuffle already and I was definitely relying on Paul's resolve at this point to keep moving. This section was the worst for me, personally. I prefer to climb all day. Running at this point of the race just wasn't in the cards for me, so I tried to do my best to just keep moving forward.

Moving forward we did, but this section still felt like the longest, both in time and distance. We knew that we would see our crew again at the next stop, so that was a mental crutch for sure. We also knew that we were getting closer to the finish. Another 6 mile section, I thought, and then comes the final 21 mile push to the finish. When we arrived at mile 93 AS, John had decided to join us to pace already, six miles earlier than originally planned. It was a welcome change of plans as it would allow us to kinda switch of a bit and let John do the thinking for a while...a long while. The next 6 miles felt as tough as the last 13. The race had finally become a struggle. We arrived at mile 99 and I was almost scared to take off my shoes and socks as I knew it would not be pretty. After much deliberation with a friendly aid station volunteer, I decided to just leave the blisters alone, clean my feet and put on new socks and shoes. 

Once again we made sure to eat and drink as much as possible to get the calories needed for the final climb(s). Paul was as determined as ever and I was hanging on just to get this monster done. As we started the final of 4 major climbs, we were in pretty good spirits and John was happy to see that we had no problems climbing. With that said, this climb took forever. It also had a few surprises left once you reached the "top", six surprises to be exact, in the form of false peaks. These false peaks were both demoralizing and infuriating at once. Paul and I had just finished discussing how happy we were that we were well on track to break 40 hours, when the false summits continued and seemed to get worse. They were relentless.

There were definitely a few choice words yelled into the sky, but we kept going. When we finally got to the actual descent, it became apparent that both Paul's and my feet had suffered greatly. Rather than "bomb" the final 6 mile downhill to the finish, we tenderly took one step after another, using our trekking poles (which we did not put away a single time during the race) softening the blow of every step downwards. When we finally reached the lake, we were left with one final cruel surprise. The finish line was on the opposite side of the lake, requiring runners to complete one final 1.5 km half loop around the lake. When we finally crossed the finish line, I was too exhausted to really celebrate. It also had not sunk in yet that we were actually done. 6 months of training had culminated in my first 120 mile finish. It felt fantastic to finally be handed my Fat Dog 120 buckle by RD Heather McDonald. 

When it was all said and done, it had taken me 40 hours and 13 minutes to complete this beast, finishing in the top 50 in a race that had 200 starters and 100 finishers. This race was definitely the hardest I've ever run and it pushed my to my limits and then some. Thanks to all the amazing volunteers who manned the aid stations and check points for 48 hours and more, some of them having hiked in supplies a day before the event even started. These adventures are not possible without you. Will I do this race again? Probably not. 120 miles is 120 miles. Do I recommend it to others? Hell yes, it is scenic, it is tough, it is mostly single track, it is point to point, what else could you want? Well, maybe a faster finish time:-)