Sunday, August 22, 2010

Kings Peak Marathon

Kings Peak Run from andy dorais on Vimeo.


Yesterday, my "son" Kyle Perry and I went out to the Uintas for a little run up Kings Peak. I had heard the trail is between 24 and 32 miles long, but once out there, we met a guy whole gave us directions for the best semi runnable trail and he claimed it is exactly 26.2 miles. Kyle is a former NCAA national champion in the steeple chase and currently runs for New Balance. I definitely had my hands full chasing him up hill for 13 miles.

Above video and pic taken with my new iphone 4

About a mile from the summit, we bumped into a couple guys on their way down that I recognized from a long time back. They were trying to run the "fastest known time" for Kings Peak. I guess there is some website that keeps track of the fastest reported times for many classic hikes/runs. Apparently, Kings is yet to be reported, so those guys figured they'd start with the record. Kyle and I were running steadily, but taking our time to stop and take pictures and chat with backpackers that were trying to figure out why we were underdressed and without big packs. But, on the way down, our conversation about the fastest time lurked in our minds and we ran a bit faster...until Kyle started to cramp up a bit and I was happy to join him in what became a walk/run/walk/run routine for the last couple miles.

Strolling back into the parking lot, we were surprised to find the other runners hanging out waiting for one of their lost buddies. They were eager to ask our car to car time (they had been holding the record for the "fastest known time" ...for that afternoon at least). That was until we informed them of our 5 hrs 29 min and 01 second new "record". They were good sports and it was fun to see other people out trying to cover some alpine ground quickly.

I'm sure there are tons of people who have run this trail faster. I can think of a few, just in SLC, that could probably knock off a good chunk of time. Sub 5 hrs wouldn't be too hard if we weren't goofing around so much, not that I'll be back for a while. And, I think the urge to ski in the Uintas is probably satisfied for the time being after seeing the long flat approaches and relatively gentle terrain.

Anyway, I have a few more summer plans in the works before the seasons change. But, like I mentioned at the end of the video...the count down has begun. 121 days until the winter solstice.

Wednesday, August 4, 2010

The Speedgoat 50K

Last Saturday was the Speedgoat 50K, the brain child of Karl Meltzer


Karl runs ultras in the mountains and wins a lot of them. He touts the Speedgoat as the toughest 50K on the planet. Which, in the middle of the summer in Utah, and with nearly 12,000 vertical to gain and run down, he might be right. The Samurai wrote extensively about the day here, so I'm just going to publish a bunch of pictures - none of which I took. All pics from the event are from Pure Light Images (photographer Thomas Martens), race profiles by Jared Inouye and stolen from his blog. And the pic of the "Speedgoat" above is from the backcountry.com website. If anyone has a problem with me reposting, let me know and I'll take em down.

Race Profile:

It started with a huge 8 mile climb to the top of Hidden Peak and then over to Baldy.

Then we descended into American Fork amidst multitudes of rednecks out on their ATVs and dirt bikes. Don't they know they could have just run out there? It was at the turn around point that morale hit an all time low. I sat in a lounge chair eating a popsicle and just watched people come and go until I could heave myself out of the chair and up the 5000 ft(?) climb back to Little Cottonwood.

A cruel joke had us descending down Peruvian Gulch before heading back up the Cirque Trail to Hidden Peak. Some where along here my quads started cramping and each step got uglier and uglier. From Hidden Peak it was 6 miles of rocky down hill "running" to the finish. I cramped continuously from chest to legs and definitely walked some stretches. Surprisingly, my feet felt fine. I wore Nike Lunar Flys and got a bunch of snotty looks from other runners who wondered why I didn't have on dedicated trail shoes.

6:30 AM start



Early in the race - still pretty happy



Walking near the top of Baldy. I'd guess 10ish miles weren't "runnable" for me, which resulted in a bunch of hiking.



About 20 miles in I started to feel pretty good again (for about 4-5 miles before the real self destruction began). I made up ground on a few people and it was nice to be running after some steep sections out of AF.



And, I was feeling better than this guy.

Jared's blow up happened about 3-4 miles before mine so I was lucky to stay in front (but behind about 20 others) the rest of the way.

To recap, it was hard. Really hard. There's a lot more to it than just running. Nutrition is a big deal and I think I may have gotten a bit behind as evidenced by the cramping during the race and the fact that when I got home, both legs seized so badly in the driveway, that I fell down and called Jessie to come help me into the house. I think my overall feeling is that these distances are totally foreign, difficult to adjust to, and strangely alluring. I took a few days off, but am already scheming up plans for another...

Tuesday, August 3, 2010

Speedgoat 50k: An Ultra Runner I Am Not . . . Yet

Every so often, the body needs a good thrashing.  If I were to place some of my adventures on a thrashing scale, with 10 being the highest and 1 being the lowest, I would rate running the Speedgoat 50k a solid 7.5.  I would say that it's right up there with long speed ski traverses and epic bike rides.  I went into the Speedgoat 50k thinking that it might be my entrance into ultra running.  I came out of the Speedgoat 50k thinking two things: (a) ultra running is really hard, and it's going to be awhile before I even can fathom being a real ultra runner, i.e. the kind that runs 100 miles, and (b) that was totally awesome!


The Course


According to my Garmin, the Speedgoat was 31 miles, gained about 11,000 feet, and descended about 11,000 feet.  The Speedgoat started at Snowbird, criss-crossed the front side and eventually topped out at Hidden Peak (11,000).

From 2010-08-03

From Hidden Peak, the race went to the top of Baldy, down into Alta, and nearly to the top of Alta's Sugarloaf lift.  It then descended sharply into Mineral Basin and down Mary Ellen Gulch and bottomed out somewhere in American Fork Canyon.  From there, it climbed back up towards Mineral Basin via Miller Hill.  It then took us up Mineral Basin the Peruvian tunnel.

From 2010-08-03

After exiting the Peruvian tunnel on the frontside of Snowbird, the course forced racers to run down before we were able to climb back up to the top of Hidden Peak via the Devil's Backbone.  After topping out at Hidden Peak for the second time, the course turned down down down to the start at Entry 1 of Snowbird.

From 2010-08-03

This course was covered in 5:43 by Kevin Schilling.  Nick Clark finished a few minutes later.  Luke Nelson finished in third.

My Race


All the stats are compiled here.  I took 7 hrs and 27 minutes to finish the course.  Out of 152 "Billies" and "Nannies," I was 32nd place.  I was happy with that result given that I was venturing into some unknown territory -- 31 miles is by far the longest I have ever run.  But more importantly, I was happy to simply be out and running in the mountains, with other goats.

At the start, I enjoyed seeing some of the heavy hitters of the sport.  Immediately, an elite pack formed at the front.  I joined the pack right behind them, and held on as long as I could.  While doing so, I was able to meet and chat with other runners.  Jared Campbell told me he was going to attempt WATOJA, which is the Wasatch 100 on Friday and LOTOJA on Saturday.  Another guy told me that I make a loud thud when I hit the ground.  About 7 miles into the race, I was running downhill, caught my toe and went down hard, cutting my hand, scraping my chest, and bruising my hip.  Kind of a sucky way to begin a race.

One of my favorite moments of the race was topping out on Hidden Peak the first time (my second favorite moment was topping out the second time because that meant it was all downhill).  There were people on top with cowbells and the like cheering.  Plaid shirt guy had taken a direct route -- on foot -- up to Hidden Peak and was there to cheer on racers.  The sun was peeking over Baldy.  It was a nice scene at 11,000 feet.

As I scurried across the ridge to Baldy, I laughed to myself as I watched the guy in fluorescent green scrambling up Baldy.  It was Andy Dorais, a partner from the WURLOS ski tour.  During the WURLOS, Andy skipped Baldy, and he was finally making it right.

The run down into Mineral Basin wasn't very fun.  After I thudded on the ground, I lost my downhill mojo.  The blood smeared all over my water bottles was a constant reminder of the thud and a hindrance. The fact that the course plummeted down a scree covered, rutted road didn't help either.  Like skiing, it's best to simply "point 'em" on the downhill; if you're tentative, you tend to be too tight, look bad, feel bad, and burn too much energy.  I wasn't able to point 'em.

Much to my amazement, when I reached the bottom of Mineral Basin, the course jogged up over a ridge, and then plummeted down another several thousand feet down Mary Ellen Gulch to somewhere in American Fork Canyon.  I wasn't able to run these miles confidently, and at the bottom, I face planted again, filling my wounds with black dirt.  Ouch.  Ouch. And ouch.  (I might have been a bit more profane than that in the moment.)

A little over 16 miles into the race, Andy and I hung out for a few moments at the aid station.  I washed my wounds and argued with one of the workers over whether I had to do a penalty lap for going off course (for once in my life, I didn't).  Andy was lounging in a lawn chair eating popsicles and said he wasn't feeling good; so I left him for dead and kept going.

3 miles after that, I hit my wall, and saw a fluorescent green shirt gaining on me.  Soon, Andy passed me, and left me for dead when I stopped to examine some blisters on the ball of my foot.  Luckily, I had some new friends to nurse me along.  Mark Christopherson and I seemed to be moving at the same pace, and we did some hard miles together.  Jared Campbell and Pat McMurty whizzed by, but slowed up long enough to offer me a gel, which I gladly took and which enabled me to get back up to Hidden Peak the second time.

As I was climbing up the Devil's Backbone, I wondered why I was going so slow.  At that point I probably had done about 10,000 feet of climbing, which isn't out of the norm during ski season.  Why was I feeling so beat?  I'm still not sure.  It might have to do with the different mechanics of running.  It might also have to do with the thrashing my body took running from the top of Snowbird to AF Canyon.

Although my body forced me to go slow, I never was miserable.  (For example, the last 20 miles of the Highline Traverse were bloody miserable.)  And the whole time I had fun, which was a blessing. Perhaps the novelty of the challenge rendered me blessed.  Perhaps it was being on new trails and seeing yet another aspect of the Wasatch.  Perhaps it's because I'm born to run . . . HA!

When I got to the top of Hidden Peak, I felt that the race was basically done, which wasn't truly the case.  My legs conveyed this to me quite loudly as I hobbled down the trail for the next 5 miles.  My pace was in the 10 to 12 min/mile range.  And I got passed by several people, two of whom were "Nannies," and three of whom were wearing moon boots.  But I didn't care, I had only lost one toenail (I'm down to 5 good ones), was still running, had covered 31 miles, and was going to finish.

Over the last four months, it's been a struggle to become a runner, to cause my body to adapt to the demands of running.  I have a long way to go, but I'm finally to a point where I am relatively comfortable, running. Runners often describe their sport as being "pure."  They describe feeling "free."  As I have a run the Wasatch this summer, I agree.