|Snow and cold in Layton on the way|
to the start ~
|The Island awaits ~|
It was windy (understatement). Sustained winds 20-30 mph with some gusts probably up to about 40 mph. I think the high on Friday was in the low 40s. That translates to a temperature around 30 degrees if you factor in the windchill. And that was while the sun was out.
I opted to pull a "Meltzer" at Elephant Head, and while the rest of the race went on a 4-mile out and back, I did the 6 mile loop first. I did this for two reasons: 1) I love running by myself, without listening to the chatter of other racers and the snorts of snot from them which make me gag. and 2) I was hoping that some of the faster racers (who had done the 4 mile out and back first) would catch up to me and I would see them.
Indeed, both assumptions played out nicely. Although I missed running with Karl (he was just too fast), I did get passed by Craig, Bob, and Aaron as we headed back to Elephant Head. I moved out of the way, cheered them on, and they gave me some words of encouragement as well.
|On the way to Elephant Head, moments after the start ~|
Despite the chilly, windy weather, I had an awesome marathon ~ I ran 5 mph until the first pass through Lower Frary Aid station at mile 27. I got some broth and a perogie from Roch, Seth, and Sara and felt really good. About a mile after the aid station, I felt a little "twinge" in my left knee, at the IT band insertion and also below the knee and thought to myself, "Uh oh. This is not happening." I took out a knee compression strap and fiddled with it a bit until I found a placement that alleviated some of the pain, popped a couple of Ibuprofen, and continued on to the Ranch.
|Split Rock bay from Elephant Head ~|
|Feeling pretty good despite the cold and wind ~ |
mile 14-ish ~
The sun went down and the mountains to the east glowed pink with the setting sun (Alpenglow reflected from the setting sun in the West). The wind continued to blow, and as the sun went behind Stansbury Island to the west, the temperature instantly dropped about 10 degrees. It got a bit colder as it got dark, but the trail was smooth and I put off turning on my headlamp until just before I went through Frary again at mile 38.
I said hello to Roch and Sara again and they hooked me up with some hot green tea (which I mixed in my handheld water bottle with a Honey Stinger gel ~ so delicious) and a turkey and cheese quesadilla. That food held me for nearly 10 miles! I also put on my puffy coat from my drop bag ~ so cozy.
|Ogden Alpenglow ~|
A couple of times when I took my tights down to pee on the side of the trail, I took my gloves off and felt the skin on my legs. Then I understood why my knee hurt so much. My skin was like ice. The wind was going right through my winter-weight tights and I wasn't able to keep my muscles and tendons warm enough to prevent the stiffening up of my knee. The cold really only affected my knee that I had ACL surgery on 6 years ago ~ my other knee was fine. I wondered to myself if I would have been better running in my fleece-lined ski pants after all! But they were in my car at the 50-mile aid station, so there wasn't much sense in dwelling on something that couldn't be changed.
I talked with another runner named Mike, and he said that his hips and knees were bugging him too, from the cold, and had opted to put some wind pants on over his tights. I though about putting a second layer of tights on from my drop bag at Frary, but honestly have you ever tried to run in two pairs of tights? I was afraid I would be walking like the Tin Man.
I called my friend Mark (who was a few miles ahead on the trail at one of the aid stations volunteering) and told him what was going on. I said I was going to drop at mile 50. He said for me to continue to his location and we would talk. When I got there, what seemed like an eternity later through the cold, windy torture chamber (the temperature was now 25 degrees, with 30 mph wind, translating to a temp in the single digits) I dropped about 4 or 5 f-bombs and I think I scared the crap out of Zac, the other aid station volunteer. Poor guy. We had just met at the half-marathon event in Moab the previous weekend and I had to laugh at what he must have thought of my outburst.
On my way up the hill to start the Bridger Bay loop, I walked next to my friend Leon. As we were going up the hill, Karl came cruising down the hill, already well into his second loop of the Island at mile 70, as we were at mile 43. He was nearly 30 miles ahead of us! What an amazing athlete, I thought to myself. What a jerk! Leon and I talked about how he would certainly get a course record, as many of the rest of us were struggling just to make it one time around the Island in the conditions. We saw a huge flash of lightening off to the west and a rumble of thunder. Leon said, "Oh, it WILL storm again!" And I thought to myself, "I do not want to be out here when it does."
I told Leon to go on ahead, as he was mustering a nice jog and I was only able to speed walk on account of my knee pain. It was eery going out to the Bridger Bay campground by myself, on a rudimentary trail through the sand and dead waist-high weeds. I met up with Quintin who was drinking some broth at the aid station at mile 46, and the volunteer showed me the way around the tent to continue on my path around Buffalo Point.
It was dark out there. So dark. It was also sheltered from the wind and very calm. I looked up at the stars and saw them twinkling in the jet-black sky. I could see storm clouds off to the west and I could see the lake just a few yards below me, reflecting in the moonlight.
Quintin came along from behind and I stepped aside to let him pass. He gave me words of encouragement to continue and I appreciated his ever-positive attitude. Feeling a little low, I had another bite of something to eat and thought the aid station at 50 miles would never come when moments later, I was on the pavement again, just a mile away. I caught Leon and Quintin again as we headed in to the last stretch of lap one and jogged into the tent.
I gave my race number to the volunteer (who was drinking a beer at 11:30pm) and he replied with, "Are you sure that's your number?" Well, asshole, I've only been out here for eleven and a half hours, through half a dozen other aid stations, checking in with the number that is on my race bib, so I'm pretty sure that's what my number is. I gave him a blank stare and said, "Yes. I'm sure." And proceeded over to a camp chair where my friend Britta got me a hot cocoa and my friend Kim would would have been my night pacer (had I not dropped out) gave me a steak and potato burrito from Rancheritos. Delicious.
My knee continued to stiffen up as I sat there and I was sure I made the right decision to drop at mile 50. Here I was, eleven and a half hours later, and Karl would go on to set a new course record in 14hrs 34min. I went back out to Frary to pick up my drop bag and say thank you to Roch and the other volunteers there (Sara was sleeping and would win the 50 mile race the next morning). I marveled at how beautiful the cities along the Wasatch front were as viewed from the east side of the Island at night. It was one in the morning when I got home. I heated up the rest of my burrito, took a shower and went to bed. My knee was killing me and I took 800mg of Ibuprofen.