Date: June 2, 2018
Purpose: To test how ready my body would be 3 months away
from The Wasatch 100.
Distance: 50.84 miles
Every journey has major check points or stopping stations
where rest and reflection can be made as to how far one has come and how much
farther one still needs to go. The Squaw Peak 50 miler served that purpose for
me. It is one of the oldest and hardest 50 milers in the US, mainly because of
the elevation gain and loss. Ultra running veterans had since told me it is a
must-do in preparing for The Wasatch that would just be a short 3 months from
that date. So I decided to sign up and
go for my first ever 50 miler (other than when I was a Scout and had to walk
that distance in 24 hours).
As a Salt Lake County boy, I had never run on the trails
behind Provo Canyon, Squaw Peak, Rock Canyon, and Hobble Creek Canyon in Utah
County. I was in for a real treat: lush meadows, thick aspen stands, spectacular
views of Utah Lake, some cool stream crossings, all at dawn of a beautiful
early summer morning. I did a 30-mile training run up and beyond Windy Pass to
familiarize myself with these brand new trails to me. It was a good idea I did
because it taught me the way to NOT go, since I got lost on the back side of
Windy Pass. But it was still gorgeous
country to experience up there.
As I began downhill on the paved Provo Canyon Trail at 5:00
am, I felt cool and consistent and well-paced.
I kept with my old running mantra of running downhills, shuffling on
flats, and power-hiking uphills, with no sitting down ever at rest stops. Sitting
is evil and dangerous to a runner. Evil because the lazy devils begin
whispering in your ear that now that you’re sitting, you should just keep on
sitting… and sitting, and sitting. It is the path of least resistance for sure.
Until you’re so cramped up you don’t want to get up and you feel like you
should just give up at this point. Scary stuff.
It was going pretty well actually. But oh how quickly things can change over 50
miles to the human body and brain! My
first real unexpected challenge in my entire Wasatch 100 preparation journey
occurred at mile 42 of The Squaw.
Suddenly my right thigh muscles really began pulsing,
uncontrollably flexing, then cramping, finally, even seizing up. The pain was
sudden and intense. I couldn’t bend my leg if I wanted to. I was out of electrolytes in my system and
hadn’t been salting myself regularly enough, I would later learn. Eating salt every 60 minutes was not enough; I
would learn that I had to teach my body to accept food more frequently during
these long and steep training sessions. Fortunately, in my wincing pain, Wetzel
soon came up right behind me after just 2-3 minutes of gingerly walking the
downhill section of the trail. He had some extra-dose sodium tablets, which he
kindly offered to me. Within 5 minutes of taking these high-powered tablets, my
legs again felt as good as new (at least 42 miles new). I was then able to run
the rest of the way. He was a real blessing to be behind me and have what my
body needed at that very moment. Otherwise, I could very well have had to walk
the remaining 8 miles, which would have been very debilitating and frustrating.
That experience reminded me of what Mr. Moelmer said to me
when I asked for advice at the draw-out session at Soldier Hollow way back in
February. I told him I was a first-timer at the 100. I told him I was nervous.
He just looked at me with a twinkle in his eye and casually, but sincerely,
said: “Just keep moving and look out for your fellow runners, and you’ll be just
fine in The Wasatch 100.”
Although I was expecting much more profundity and wisdom from
one of the race founders, his advice had proven correct. . I’m sure he could
have told me a lot more about nutrition, hydration, clothing, sleep, course
topography/geography/geology, or new gear (a topic I’ve learned runners REALLY
like talking about, especially while running). Rather, he chose to help me by
emphasizing the importance of helping me other runners on the course.
Mind-blowing, but so true: I could be a
Christian and be an ultra-runner all at once.
For instance, I passed a runner at mile 38 who was sitting forlorn
on the side of the trail. Sitting during
any long cardio exercise (yard work, biking, running, rowing, etc) is
considered incredibly dangerous, because the risk exists that your legs will
shut down completely, your mind’s determination to “just keep moving” will
quickly weaken, and you won’t be able to actually get up and run again. This
particular runner looked pale and drawn, perhaps even shakey. Runners were
streaming past him. I stopped to talk to him. I knew all was not right for this
young runner. I offered him a Stinger Bar as I came up on him. He gratefully
accepted, saying he was out of food in his vest and still 5 miles from the next
aid station. Those next 2-3 miles were some of my favorite from the entire run
as I had a natural high. Moelmer’s words about helping fellow runners on the
course rang true in my ears. I forgot about myself and ran with a happy heart. It
was like an instant adrenaline release.
After Wetzel helped me at mile 42 with the salt tablets,
then passed me, I then passed him later on at mile 47. I knew he wanted to be
sub-10 hours, just like me. So I knew if could stick with Wetzel my time would
come out roughly where I wanted it to be. We leap-frogged each other 4 times
during that race. Each time I saw him, it gave me hope. He’s a strong runner
and a good example to me. So when he came up behind me on that monotonous road
section before making it back to Vivian Park with about 200 yards left, I
thought to myself: “we have stayed with each other virtually this entire race,
without initially planning on doing so – let’s now stay together as we cross
the line and experience the finish together.”
Our time ended up being identical 9:49.53. I was so happy to
have met my goal of finishing in less than 10 hours. I was even happier to have
finished, step for step, with Scott Wetzel, also known as The Ox. Best of all
was to have Avi, Colter, Rory, Eliza, and Becky all cheering me on at the end,
running along side me for the past 20 yards. I spiked my water bottle to the ground and let
out a primordial scream of relief and joy at the finish line.
It was such a rewarding finish.
I just didn’t have any clue how I was supposed to ask my
body and mind to go another 50 miles after just finishing that first 50 miles
to make it a full 100. Daunting…
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