If you asked me at the 11:42:07 PM on Saturday, July 31st if I was going to ever run the Never Summer 100K again my answer would have been a resounding, “HELL NO!!” That morning at 5:30 AM I had started this race “between the Never Summer Mountains on the northern border of the Rocky Mountain National Park and the Medicine Bow Mountains to the north of Cameron Pass” within the boundaries of State Forest State Park in Walden, Colorado.
For 18 hours, 12 mins, and 07 seconds this race would take me up along pasture trails, lots and lots of dirt road, and some craggily rocks. ” It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair”. That Dicken’s quote was a perfect fit to my experience.
My best of times came far and few between on this race. I felt strong the first 12 miles up and over the 7 Utes mountain came easy enough. I had some good strong miles throughout this region with a solid group of runners. The terrain was smack in my wheel house. I was in control, taking it easy, soaking in the views, took a few pictures and was relishing my experience that I had worked so hard for. It was going to be a good day.
Then my body revolted against me, bring on the worst of times. I visited the bushes more times then I care to recall from miles 12-42. I went to places in my mind where I had never gone before in my 30 years of running, the notion of quitting, surrendering, giving up, crossed my mind more times then I think in all of my other runs in my life combined. I even considered it with 14, 12, 10…. miles to go, just take that ride back to the start. By mile 15, I was done with this race, worn out, exhausted and ready to call it quits. At the mile 18 aid station, Diamond, I saw my friends who helped me re-supply and get going again, despite my best efforts of dropping my unsealed full water bladder, and communicating that I was in trouble. I got out of there in short order. If I hung out any longer, I wasn’t leaving.
Less then 20 minutes later I would be laying on the ground in the shade, after a steady climb up in the hot sun had beaten me down. Do I quit? Why do I keep going? At the time I had no idea, but ultimately I rolled back up, obviously, and kept trudging up this god forsaken dirt road. Within 5 minutes, I was greeted by two other runners who had quit and were heading back to Diamond to get a lift. At the time and now, I am glad I wasn’t them. I kept on pushing. On any normal race, I am the guy who would have tried to talk those other two runners into not quitting, but not today. It took everything I had to not join them.
Along the final climb of this section, I passed one of my early running friends, John. He was doing what I had done just a few minutes earlier, laying down. He looked done. I did muster the energy to get him on his feet, and told him to keep on going. I didn’t stop long enough to really make sure he was going again and within a minute he was no longer behind me. I figured he was finished and I kept on going.
The idea that I just spent thousands of dollars, 10 days of vacation time, and hundreds of miles and hours of training in the mountains away from my family on weekends were the only things keeping me going out there. That and my 60+ friend, Scout, trailing not as far behind me as she should be (she placed 3rd in the grand masters age group and was the oldest female competitor, she killed it out there). She probably doesn’t know this, or perhaps she does because she does know me really well, she might have been the only thing keeping me going. If she was still out there fighting to finish a race that had beaten her twice before, then I would be damned if she was going to finish and I wasn’t.
One of her favorite mantras is “Harden the Fuck Up” (HtFU). I was reminded of this at the Ruby Jewel Aid station 28 miles into the race by Joker, Scouts pacer and my past 100 Mile Wilderness partner. I told him and Rick, Scout’s husband, that I was ready to quit and Joker had his HtFU bracelet on and all he said “I will give you this bracelet and refuse to give you a ride”. At the time I really struggled with incredulity in running another 37 miles, but I found myself leaving the aid station with final parting words from Joker, “if that is your pace, we will catch you”……he understands me well, because fuck that.
Another highlight of my day happened at Ruby Jewel too. John came trucking in just as I was about to head out, he hadn’t quit after all! He told me that he had turned around like I thought but another runner behind us talked him into going on. That runner had done what I had failed to do earlier and I was glad for John’s perseverance.
Over the next 6 miles, I pushed through the very long, dry, hot, dirt road miles clipping away at a slow but steady 15 min/mile pace. Any faster and I would cough so hard I would almost vomit. A couple coughing fits, visits into the bushes and 90 minutes later I arrived at the aid station looking like complete and utter shit. Another friend waiting at Canadian aid station, Elias, would later confirm that I did in fact look like hell rolled over. He didn’t know how to tell me that at the time, but he helped me move on quickly again. My goal at this point remained, get in and get out, if I stayed any length of time I wasn’t going to continue.
It was 5 miles of mostly steady dirt road, some single track gradual climbing with some pasture trails to the Clear lake aid station then according to the previous aid station 1 1/2 miles to clear lake turn around. This section was supposedly 6 1/2 miles out and back for 13 miles back to Canadian before the final 14 miles to the end. This was a bit of a mental boost for me because I got to see nearly every runner in the race including the winner. I was counting places, and calculating how far ahead of me they were, and I met my current primary training partner, Brent, just leaving the clear lake aid station from coming back down, roughly 3 miles a head of me! That isn’t bad at all! I really thought I was doing worse.
Well that mental boost was short lived, as minutes later I found out that I was 6 miles and hours behind Brent. Because it is 3 miles out and back from the aid station to the clear lake turnout, not 1 1/2 as I was told earlier. Brent’s parting words to me as we passed each other was “have fun up there” would hit home soon enough.
I entered Clear Lake aid station full of joy and left in another mental low. I did have another HtFU moment, when I bitched to the time keeper that “this sucked” and she recognized my TMR (trail monster running) logo and said “you are from Maine, you signed up from this, get it done” in other words, HtFU and quit your bitching. This trudge up to the clear lake turnabout turned out to be a long climb up muddy, rocky, slippery, rainy, puddle riddled, technical and just down right shitty trail. The wind was strong at the top which encouraged a quick turnout.
Brent would be right, this trail was “fun” but a few good things occurred bringing me into a bright spot of my day. First, I was so pissed off by time I got to the summit that I ignored my stomach issues and actually put down some of my best miles going down the 8 miles back down to Canadian aid station. Second, but really #1, I got to see Scout and Joker starting their journey up this bitch of a climb. Third, I discovered that the perogies and veggie broth (P&V) that I ate at Canadian the first time seemed to give me wicked gas, but no visits to the bushes. I can work with that! And finally, but certainly not least, I found what I thought was butt crack chafe starting was really just a pine needle between my cheeks! #winning.
I made it to my final visit to Canadian aid station, and had 6 miles to Bockman Aid and then 8 miles to the end. I really felt the best I had since the beginning of the race going into this last 14 miles. I thought I could run most of it. Then the coughing started again, and I once again found myself sitting on the ground resting against a log wondering why I had been so foolish to keep going.
As darkness was settling and I closed my eyes thinking I could just sit here and sleep until Scout caught up to me and maybe I would find it in me to finish then. Instead, I pushed a 5 hour energy in me, donned my headlamp and stood up. If I had to walk. I would walk and fart my way to the finish.
Soon I was joined by another walker, Joey, and we would have some casual conversation for few miles. He was also having a bad day. About 2 miles from the aid station I started to feel myself perk up but I stayed with Joey because it was nice to have company. I was really starting to pull ahead and could feel myself picking up steam. We approached Bockman, and some quick mental calculation told me that I could reach one of my secondary goals of the day, to finish before midnight, if I pushed. I had also decided after the previous aid stations P&V to stop eating and drinking, which really helped relieve the coughing, farting, and other bush visits.
My stop at Bockman was very short, and I only paused long enough to give Joey spare AAA batteries I had with me as he was concerned about his headlamp surviving the final 8 miles. I left that aid station doing what I hadn’t done since coming down Clear Lake and hadn’t done since mile 12 before that, actually running . I moved well for the first 3 miles of this section, but the grade eventually won out and I power hiked a steep mile to what unbeknownst to me would be my final climbing of the day.
I was passing a fair number of runners at this point, and I peaked at this climb and running back down again. In my research for the race I learned there were two hard climbs, that first 4 miles must have been the first and then I would hit one more short but steep climb and 2 miles to the finish down hill. I could do this but needed to save something for that last climb. So I slowly ran down, and more down, and more down. Finally I passed another runner and inquired how much further it was to the final climb and he said “you did it a mile ago”….oh, well, goodbye and I started pushing the last miles to the finish. Seeing that finish line, the lights, the fire and Sarah (my wife) cheering me on as I came running in filled my heart and soul with joy. I had seen my way through my darkest hours, my hardest miles, all my disbelief, all my despair, and I had a wooden finishers plaque in my hand.
The next morning at the awards breakfast I would see both Joey and John, and both had finished almost together about an hour behind me. I would also see the women I had run on and off with almost all day, Debbie, win first place in the grand masters category. She had ultimately pulled ahead of me during the climb up clear lake and I didn’t catch her again. I am honored and privilaged to have shared many miles with these 3 athletes and they showed great strength along side me at various times throughout the race.
In reflection, I think my error ultimately comes down to having gone out to Colorado a week before the race. It wasn’t enough time for this born and raised sea level boy to acclimate to a race that didn’t dip below 8,500 feet for the day. I think all the week before the race served to do was put me in a state of hidden fatigue before I even started. Then the first 12 miles, I depleted the oxygen in my muscles, and it led to a feeling of running twice as far as I had. My body must have believed it was in some kind of distress, sending my stomach into turmoil and what was going in was coming quickly out the other side. Once that started there was no coming back until I got far enough in the race where it didn’t matter. Perhaps, I should have called it quits earlier on food and hydration, but maybe it would have made it worse. I don’t really want to ever have to test that theory.
Never Summer was an enlightening experience and sadly I didn’t get to run the truly intended race course. Flash floods had caused road closures in the area calling off the SAR team that manage the higher 12K summit aid stations. The race director was forced to reroute around the hardest climb and most stunning ridge line of the race. Keeping us a little lower then normal. This probably helped ensure I finished, but it does leave me feeling like I am not done with the race yet. I will be back Never Summer 100K.
Running with Love 