IMTUF 100 - Four for Four

2017 has been yet another heavy racing year for me, and what better way to cap off the season with one more huge effort up in McCall at IMTUF 100. Many of my races this year were impacted in some way by the weather, either with snow pack or flooding for several of my early races this season (Black Canyon, Pulse Endurance, Salt Flats to name a few). Last year at IMTUF, we were treated to pouring rain for the entire second half of the race through the night and into the second day, it made for a unique challenge on an already tough course. This year, heading into race weekend, the weather looked to be shaping up to allow for nearly perfect running conditions and I felt ready.

In the four weeks leading up to IMTUF, I had two final long efforts and felt like I had recovered quite well from each and that they had definitely helped prepare me for what lay ahead. First, in mid-August, I spent 19 hours on the Leadville 100 course with my friend Ryan Lund, pacing the entire back half of his 100 mile race concluding his Leadman Series. I followed this effort up two weeks later (and two weeks before IMTUF) with ‘just’ a 50k up at The Rut in Big Sky, Montana. The Rut beat me up more than I ever anticipated during the race (a great event in its own right), but the recovery went quickly and I felt like it was just what I needed to prime my system for another tour of the IMTUF course.

I took Friday before the race off of work and headed up to McCall early in the day – as I drove north from Boise, I watched the temperature continue to drop and the skies turn grey despite the clear forecast for the weekend. By the time I arrived at Burgdorf in the early afternoon, it was a balmy 38 degrees and windy. I spent some time catching up with my good friend Rachel as we waited for the pre-race meeting and reminiscing about years past at IMTUF and how much it has grown. It began to rain and then gradually turned to sloppy wet snowflakes. The wet didn’t last long, but it was enough to set a deep chill in the air, and by the time the meeting started, everyone looked fairly frozen.

Jeremy and Brandi put on another great show at the prerace meeting, the amount of passion they have for everything about this event is unmatched. You could feel the excitement and anxiety in the air, as a good portion of the field would be toeing this start line for the first time.

Burgdorf Lodge

Jeremy and Brandi - Our Gracious RD's

As I crawled into my sleeping bag that night, the feeling was not unlike the excitement of a child on Christmas Eve, generally aware of what to expect the next morning, but still ready for anything. I slept poorly, waking up several times with random cold spots, but I still felt rested enough when the 4:00 alarm finally went off.

When Rachel and I lined up at the start line, we were soon joined with Tony Huff and Wayne Rancourt, a couple of other IMTUF veterans. Between the four of us we had 15 IMTUF finishes, likely more than the rest of the field combined, and good company to be in with.

Rachel and I at the Start Line

Top of Bear Pete Climb

The air was crisp when the elk bugle sounded, signifying the start of the race. We had a big climb to look forward in the first few miles, so I wasn’t too worried about the temperatures. As we grinded up Bear Pete headed toward Cloochman Aid station on the other side, the mood was elevated and everyone around me seemed to be settling in nicely. Just as we gained the ridge and began to cross to the other side, we were treated with a gorgeous sunrise that lit up the ice frosted brush and trees. We passed Howie Stern taking photos on the fast descent into Cloochman where Mariah and the gang had bacon and pancakes ready for us.

Descending into Cloochman - PC: Howie Stern Photography

After Cloochman, we had a bomber descent down to the bottom and some easy miles down the road to Upper Payette Lake. As we hit the road, I caught up with Garrick Arrends running his first 100 and hoping to have a good day. I saw the familiar faces of Ryan Anderson and Jeremy at the aid station, Elsa Cervantes also gave me a bite of her breakfast burrito and I interpreted it as her offering me the whole thing (as I found out later) and scarfed it down. Garrick and I headed off around the lake together and headed up through Terrible Terrance Trail to Pearl Creek road. TTT wasn’t nearly as bad in the daylight and we made quick work of a typically rough section of trail. The climb up Pearl Creek road towards North Crestline is straightforward and just steep enough to question whether we should have been running or not. Garrick and I choose to hike most of it, and on the way into the aid station we caught up with Ben Gibbard. Yes, that Ben Gibbard – frontman for Death Cab for Cutie, The Postal Service, and tons of other solo work. I’ve been a fan of his music for years, and it was a great opportunity to introduce myself and run with a really genuine guy who also happens to be a famous musician.

Start of the Crestline

At North Crestline Aid Station I was greeted by Mike Blessing, Kari Porter, and Stephanie Heimberg – they took care of me and filled me with bacon, quesadillas, and a shot of fireball to make sure I was ready for the daunting Crestline trail we were headed straight into.

PC: Garrick Arends

Miles 24-38 on the Crestline seemed to move by quickly – we had slowed our pace and were enjoying the scenery. Technical trail required slower more surefooted steps; at this point, I had already begun the rock kicking party. Garrick, Ben, I and a few others stayed together for most of this section and had good conversation while ticking off the miles, gorgeous scenery around every corner.

Arriving at South Crestline aid station Garrick and I were moving well and had pulled a bit ahead of the others; we fueled up heavy again and got ready for one more climb up and over Fall Creek Summit before descending down to Lake Fork. Helen Pelster caught us as soon as we rolled into the aid station; she was leading the woman’s race after a strong third-place performance the prior year. An incredible runner based out of the Tahoe area, we chatted as we left the aid station together with Garrick. She gradually pulled away from us on the climb.

On the techy descent from Fall Creek, Garrick’s IT band started acting up and he opted to take it easy rather than risk further damage so I descended on my own for a minute – Ben caught up to me and we took the rest of the descent together. We trotted and chatted along the seemingly unending dirt road (actually only 2.8 miles) on the way into Lake Fork Aid around mile 45.

Fall Creek Descent - PC: Howie Stern Photography

I stayed in Lake Fork for a few minutes and refueled with homemade pizza and coke while BSing with Derek Call who was running the aid station, knowing that the next section up and over Snowslide would be a challenge. Garrick came into the aid a few minutes after Ben and I did and was working with his crew to get some of his physical ailments sorted out. Ben had picked up his first pacer and left the aid station within a few seconds of me and we quickly settled into a fairly efficient pace that we would hold for the next five miles of single track that was reminiscent of typical PNW forest trails. This quickly gave me another opportunity to be star struck – as Ben’s pacer was none other than Brian Morrison, an elite runner a few years back, coming within a quarter mile of finishing first in the WS 100 mile race in 2006. Last year he ran WS again and was able to redeem himself by toughing out a fine finish with Ben pacing him for a chunk of miles.

We chatted and climbed together and picked off a few runners in the process, but once the climb pitched up to a steeper grade Ben needed to take a breather. I forged ahead knowing that the inky black night wasn’t far off and I wanted to make sure that I was able to get down off of the mountain before dark. I passed a few runners on the climb, the higher we got, the steeper it got. I finally crested the saddle with the evening sun lighting up the granite all around me. I started the descent and quickly caught up with Helen again, we had planned on taking the descent easy, but as we got closer to the lake and the midpoint of the descent we saw a familiar figure on a rock below. Jeremy, the RD had climbed up to admire his handiwork. As we got down to him and passed him he hopped up and asked if he could pace us down to the aid station, we happily obliged. It was surreal bombing downhill with the female leader and the race director in tow.

Helen and I headed in to Snowslide

As we neared the aid station at mile 55, the smell of pulled pork filled the air. This aid station is also notorious for great food and even better volunteers. I met Garrick’s crew and wife there and they talked with me for a few minutes as I changed my shoes and socks and bundled up with a coat and a couple buffs for the night. I had 4.5 miles to the next aid station at Duck Lake with a significant climb and a short descent all on good forest road to look forward to. Before heading out, I grabbed a pulled pork sandwich from the gracious volunteers and then Helen (along with her new pacer) and I left the aid together and set off on a respectable power hike and let the night take us over. In and out of Duck Lake Aid station quickly, I slowly started to pull away from Helen as I worked my way down Twenty Mile Trail, this is a 10-mile section that is net downhill, but still fairly technical.

Somewhere along this section, I heard voices and saw headlamps behind me gaining quickly, it turns out that Ben had come back from his rough spot and was moving quite well. I latched on to their pace and we finished up the section and rolled on into Upper Payette Lake at mile 70 for the second time just before midnight. We had a 50k left and only one significant climb remaining in the race, but I knew that my legs had seen the last of their fast miles for the day. Jose and Elsa were still at Upper Payette taking care of everyone and it was great to see them again. I asked Jose how many people had been through and he informed me that Ben and I were in 31/32 place.

It had gotten cold over the last few hours and I was having trouble heat regulating so I dropped my sweaty running jacket and traded it out for a sturdier North Face Windwall jacket with some insulation. I drank some broth and warmed up by the campfire for a couple of minutes and then Ben and I set out again. Ben had swapped pacers here and we would be treated with some more stories and a fresh set of legs to help push us up the Victor/Diamond Ridge climb.

The climb up Diamond Ridge is long and unforgiving; in the dark, on tired legs, it doesn’t feel any easier. The wind had picked up and once we got out into the old burn scar I began to worry about whether I had enough warm gear to keep me moving. It had to be close to freezing temperatures and the wind was howling through the trees. An eerie whistling sound was ejected from the darkness around us, but still, we forged ahead. Around mile 77, we finally came across an aid station tucked in away from the wind. Thankful for a warm fire and more broth, I chatted with the volunteers that had hauled everything for the aid station up the mountain with their pack goats and would be out in the weather for nearly as long as we would by the time they would get to break camp. Knowing that we shouldn’t stay long, Ben, his pacer, and I headed out to finish the climb and begin the long technical descent down to Willow Basket.

Goats at Diamond Ridge - PC: Irene Saphra

With the bulk of the race behind me and very ‘runnable’ terrain ahead I was wishing that my legs had more left in them, but I knew it would be a slow marathon to finish out the course. Race amnesia had kicked in hard and it felt like this section would never end. Rolling downhill trail, but the pace had slowed considerably. Ben and his pacer stuck with me and I was appreciative of the company. We swapped stories of races and adventures as we slogged down the trail, despite what felt like an impossibly slow pace, we began passing people, I guess the race had taken its toll on everyone by this point. As the miles slowly ticked away we came across more and more headlamps and watched them fade into the darkness behind us.

Finally, we popped out over a hill and saw the aid station below us – Doug and Vicky Trees always pack this aid station in and take care of the runners twice, before and after the 10-mile loop around the Secesh River and Loon Lake. Right when we got there I saw a guy named Brian who I had ran with earlier in the race, he was having an awesome day and had just finished his loop and was about to head in for the final 10 mile stretch to the finish. I wished him luck and we headed out in the opposite direction – 3 miles to the next aid station and my final drop bag at Chinook Campground. Ben, his pacer, and I pressed on and passed a few more people on the way into Chinook. I knew that the 7-mile stretch back to Willow Basket would be the coldest section of the day, so I had stashed a puffy jacket to throw on in my drop bag and would carry it with me for the rest of the day.

The undulating trail followed the Secesh River down for several miles before we eventually crossed the river and began climbing back out of the river bottom. A small out and back to Loon Lake seemed a daunting task to undertake. One downside for moving as fast as we were was that we arrived at the lake in the dark still and were unable to ‘appreciate’ the detour as much as the runners who would arrive after the sun came up. Just over a mile and we would be back at Willow Basket for one last section through Ruby Meadows and on to the finish.

As we left Willow Basket, Ben and his pacer were able to hit a speed that was just out of my reach, he was ready to be done and moving well. I did my best to keep up with them for the first few miles, but gradually fell off and watched them disappear around the corner ahead of me. I was fine with this, as I was still passing the occasional runner and felt good about where my finish time would be. 

Everything hurt and I wanted to be done, but I wasn’t able to move any faster. Daylight had come just before we had left the last aid station, so I took my time and enjoyed watching the sun peak out over the mountains and light up the granite and colorful flora across the meadows. Reds, yellows, and oranges accented with the stark black of charcoal of burned trees stretched across the meadow. Everything was coated with a blanket of frost and it was hard not to appreciate the beauty of it all.

Eventually, I hit the final climb up and out of the meadows and saw Ben and another runner a few switchbacks ahead of me, I settled in and climbed as efficiently as I could and popped out onto the road at the trailhead. We had several miles of this dirt road before we crossed the pavement onto the road to Burgdorf. Again, the dirt road seemed longer than it should have, and I had no choice but to continue on. Alas, I reached the campground which meant I was only a few hundred yards from the pavement. O crossed the pavement at Warren Wagon Road and onto the road to Burgdorf for the final two miles of the race. Now that I could smell the finish line I was moving really well, employing a run/walk strategy. With a mile left I passed the last runner I’d see, he was moving slow and hurting bad but would finish a few minutes behind me. I saw Jose and Elsa drive by and shout words of encouragement as I trotted along the road. The final turn came into sight and I felt my emotions start to well up inside.

The feeling of accomplishment in running 100 miles is intense, it is unlike anything else. To battle the elements, the terrain, mental demons, and everything else that goes along with running your body through the wringer for more than a day is a special thing that we do. No matter how much I suffer and how bad I feel during the race, the last 100 yards I can’t help but smile and appreciate everything.

My fourth attempt at this course yielded yet another finish, and like the others, this one will stick in my memory for years to come. This was my second fastest finish time, and a 15^th place overall finish, in the last 30 miles of the race I ended up passing 17 people on my way in. This was my 10^th race finish of 100 miles or more, and it came as an early birthday present for me as I prepare to enter my 30’s two weeks from now.  

Jer and I at the Finish Line

27 hours and 43 minutes after I left Burgdorf, Jeremy and Brandi were waiting at the finish line to welcome me back. I can’t say enough about the heart and compassion these two have for this race, their runners, and the environment. Without these two, IMTUF wouldn’t exist, and I have so much gratitude for everything they do for the running community.

Obligatory Fan Photo - Ben Gibbard and I after some hard fought miles.

The course itself was in incredible condition, I think there were a total of three downed trees in the entire 100 miles. The markings were spot on, and there was never a doubt or question on navigation. The terrain is challenging, there’s no way around it, each year I hear people saying that it is much more difficult than it looks on paper, I agree, and that is why I keep coming back each year.

A huge thank you to everyone involved in the race, volunteers, race directors, family, and crews, you all make it possible for us runners to do what we love to do and it is so rewarding to be able to share these experiences with all of you. 

River of [Snow] Return - Idaho 208k Challenge Part 2 of 3

The River of No Return Endurance Runs take place each June starting and ending in the small town of Challis, Idaho. The race offerings include 25km, 50km, and 108km options that allow participants to choose their challenge accordingly. For the past three years, I have committed to the daunting task of spending the better part of a day in the thin air of the high country braving the 108km course. This would be my fourth year at RONR facing the most difficult course conditions the race has seen.

Pre-Race Meeting Friday Evening

On a normal year, the RONR course is no joke, it is frequently compared to the effort of a 100 mile race despite it being 30 miles shorter, some of this is due to the elevation gain and time at altitude, accumulating close to 17,000 feet of gain and spending a good portion of the race above 9,000 feet. The race is a collection of huge climbs and descents, flat sections are rare, and the remote nature of the Frank Church Wilderness adds to the experience. All of this is complemented with first class race directors Paul Lind and Neal Russell along with an army of volunteers.

In the weeks and days leading up to this year's event, we got frequent email and Facebook updates on the course conditions, the snow from this winter still clinging to the mountains combined with rapidly fluctuating temperatures kept us guessing until race day. Paul had warned us to consider packing snowshoes as over 10 miles of the course were still under several feet of snow come race week. The river crossings were raging and had been affixed with ropes to help aid with runner safety, needless to say it was going to be an epic ride. 

To combat the expected adverse conditions, the decision was made to push the start time up an hour earlier, to 4:00 AM, so the runners at the back of the pack would have the best chance to cross the final rivers before dark.

Course Map - Has been compared to a T-Rex

On race morning, I woke up at 2:30 AM after a restless few hours and worked my way through the typical final preparations for an effort such as this. After throwing some calories into myself and checking the items in my drop bags one last time, it was time to get the show on the road. I exchanged some good wishes with my friend Daragh Maccabee, who was running his first long distance mountain ultra (he had run the 25km and 50km races in the prior two years) and we lined up at the start awaiting the final countdown. 

Daragh and I before the Start

The first few miles of the race are downhill on pavement and then 4x4 trail before beginning the first major climb of the day, and I started out closer to the front than I usually would, the quick pace felt good to warm up cold muscles in the cool dark morning. as we turned off and headed up the climb I was toward the back half of the top 10 runners, a position I would hold for several hours. I talked to no one as I climbed up the familiar trail that wound upwards into the hills. The sky was just beginning to lighten as we traversed across to the first aid station and I settled into a more reasonable pace. Upon leaving the first aid station a runner had caught up to me and we started the climb out of there together, keeping the pace reasonable enough to keep up a conversation. Another three miles up and then we would begin our descent to the ghost town of Bayhorse several thousand feet below.

Sunrise near the top of the first climb

Old Mining Buildings near Bayhorse Townsite

I came into mile 16 at Bayhorse Town in just under three hours, a few minutes faster than any of my other trips around this course. I was feeling quite good and knew I had a monster of a climb ahead of me. I dropped the water bottle I had carried for the first few hours and grabbed my Salomon race vest that I had packed in my drop bag and headed out, knowing I had close to 5,000 feet of climbing over the next 10 miles before my legs would get their next downhill break. On this climb we would also get our first taste of what was leftover from the intense winter that we had this year.

Prior trips up Ramshorn Mountain had taught me to be patient with this climb as it is so early in the race, many runners try to tackle this with more ambition than they should and are left crippled shortly afterwards, I was determined not to succumb to this fate, so I kept the pace slower than a few others getting passed by two or three people on my way up. I ended up finishing the climb with the same guy I had ran with earlier in the race. As we approached the top of the mountain, we found ourselves climbing on top of snow drifts and looking for flagging to guide us up safely up the mountain. We hit the top just passed 10:00 AM, or 6 hours of race time. We would then lose nearly the same amount of elevation in half of the distance, dropping over 3,000 feet in the next 5 miles to Juliette Creek. The first part of the descent was quite difficult, a severe side hill that was drifted with hard-pack snow. It took a lot of effort to ensure that we didn't slide over the edge and offered next to nothing for traction for our shoes. Eventually we made it passed this section and got down below the snowline, allowing for some fast miles as we dropped down into the valley below.

  

  

  

At Juliette Creek, about 30 miles into the race, we were about to get into the crux of the course, the stretch from there to Bayhorse Lake had been impacted by the remaining snow more than much of the rest of the course. This was also where I had stashed my snowshoes. I felt conflicted as I fought with myself over whether to grab them (and the large pack they were in) or leave them in hopes of the snow being hard enough to move over efficiently, ultimately deciding to forgo them in favor of a lighter gear setup. My good friends Jose and Elsa were manning this aid station and they helped me refuel from the long stretch of mountains I had just come from and warned me of the treacherous stream crossings ahead. Sure enough, right out of the aid station was the first test, what is usually not much more than a trickle, was a raging river that was close to waist deep with a fixed rope strung across to hang on to. Wading my way across, the icy cold water felt good against my already fatigued legs, but I knew better than to linger here, the high country was calling. 

The climb up Juliette consisted of 10 or more crossings of varying difficulty, all with safety ropes strung across them. As we climbed higher, the patches of snow became more frequent until there was more snow than not, and eventually we came to the final clearing and push up the climb, a mile or so of nothing but snow. It was definitely softening up already and I felt some empathy for the people who would be coming through here later in the day, as I was still towards the front of the pack and knew there would be some carnage later in the race if the heat kept up.

  

At this point I was still running with the same guy from earlier and we were struggling equally with the snow, but apparently others were as well, as we came to the final section of the climb we found ourselves closing in on the runners in 5th and 6th place. We didn't catch them and lost some time once we got to the top, the snow was patchy and mixed with deep, difficult mud sections as we made our way through the last few miles to Bayhorse Lake.

A rare dry patch on top of Juliette Drainage

We arrived at Bayhorse Lake (mile 38.5) just as the two runners ahead of us were leaving. I stopped long enough to change into dry shoes and socks, a brilliant choice, and get some real calories into me. Slices of cheese quesadilla and peanut butter sandwich squares helped to fill the growing void in my stomach.

Trail just past Bayhorse Lake

The trail leaving Bayhorse Lake wasn't any better than what we had come in on, lots of deep snow, but it was in the shade and we stayed on top of it for the most part. It still made for slow going and I was definitely behind my pace from prior years after the slow miles up Juliette. We forged ahead though, and eventually caught up to the two gentlemen in front of us again, and this time I was able to make a move. I knew we were about to hit some easy downhill miles, and the trail was just beginning to become runnable again, so I pushed a bit harder and passed them. The group of us were 5th through 8th positions and I was able to gap all three of them to take 5th place on my own as I made my way down Trealor Creek to the Squaw Creek aid station. By the time I got down there it was definitely the warmest it had been all day and I was afraid the extra effort I had put in over the past few miles would catch up to me soon, my legs were reminding me that I had raced a tough 100k just two weeks before that and surely wasn't recovered yet.

  

Leaving Squaw Creek I caught a glimpse of 6th and 7th coming down the road, so I quickly headed out, but I wasn't moving as quick as I would have liked. I knew I was closing in on the home stretch now, with just a single climb and a monster descent left in the race. I still had over 20 miles to go, but it felt manageable now. Within 20 minutes of leaving the aid station, the two guys behind had gotten close, I could hear them talking a short ways behind me and they got within a creek crossing of me at one point. I decided to give a little bit more effort and see if I could gap them again as my climbing legs weren't quite finished yet. The further we climbed the less evidence I saw that they were able to match my pace, and eventually I was on my own again in the most remote section of the course. Winding through the trees, climbing an endless stair-master, popping out into a meadow here and there only to be thrown back against the hillside a short time later, dry shoes were a thing of the past, and the mud became more prevalent as the climb continued, eventually giving way to the snow patches I had grown to loathe.

Creek 'Crossing' that we ended up hiking up instead of across

"The Meadow"

Up, and up, I climbed higher and the snow grew softer, now punching through on nearly every step. I didn't regret not having my snowshoes with me, as the patches were short and frequent enough that you would lose more time donning and doffing than you would benefit from wearing them. Eventually I broke through the final section of trees and into the final clearing before the last short climb of the race. Only a few hundred yards long, it took much longer than it should have, as the snow was deep and soft. I finally made it through and up the last kicker of a climb, greeted by a few saints that had hiked up to watch and cheer runners on. I wasn't out of the woods yet, there was still about two miles to go before I hit the next aid station, and this section would prove to be just as, or more challenging as much of the rest of the course due to the deep soft snow. Sinking up to your knees while attempting to run downhill is quite a challenge when you've been on your feet for over 12 hours already that day. 

More soft snow...

Buster Lake

 Finally I made it to the road, and began the descent back down to Challis, the aid station had been moved a mile or so further down the road than in prior years due to the snow and mud, but when I finally got to it, I knew the worst was behind me. Derek Call fed me some chicken pot pie and sent me on my way. I knew that the hard part was over, but I still had close to a half marathon of 100% downhill to go, so I wouldn't be able to take it easy just yet. I settled into what felt like a reasonable downhill pace, somewhere at or under a 10 minute mile and turned on autopilot, everything hurt, but it didn't feel like I was putting much effort into this speed as I meandered through the trees on the forest service road. I had one aid station left, Custer Motorway, about 5 miles from the finish, as I came up on it I was greeted with cheers and smiling faces. I was appreciative, but ready to be done. Just after I gave them an answer to the question of how far back the next runners were of anywhere from two to twenty minutes behind me (I had no idea), I saw a glimpse of orange way up the road. The chase was on. 

I knew that I hadn't been pushing myself too hard down the hill, but I also didn't want to lose the position I had worked all day to maintain, so I quickly finished up at the aid station and started running, hard. I hoped that I would be able to put a good distance on the next guy and not have to run hard all the way back to Challis, but I was wrong, every time I looked back, no matter how hard I was running I saw him, seeming to match my speed exactly. On I pushed, and the pavement jarred my battered joints. I reached the edge of town, knowing that there was about a mile left, we would run straight down Main Street and take a final left turn to send us back towards the City Park where the finish line was waiting. I hadn't gained any ground, but I didn't seem to have given much up either, and I was running scared.

I hit the final turn with a third of a mile left and looked back, finally able to relax a bit once I knew he wouldn't be able to catch me and ran though the finish line, almost collapsing with exhaustion and emotion, 6th place would finish less than a minute behind me, and 7th two minutes behind him. I had a final time of 16 hours and 33 minutes, and a 5th place overall finish in a competitive field.

Sheer exhaustion.

Paul presenting me with my 208k Challenge Award

Once I had calmed down a bit from the excitement of the finish I was able to sit down and eat some proper food, Cheyenne had saved me some pizza from earlier in the day and the race directors had provided kegs of beer so I was all set. Several of us got our sleeping bags out and hung out next to the finish line late into the night and into the next day cheering people on as they crossed the line accomplishing something that many people don't ever get the opportunity to experience. Daragh crossed the finish somewhere just under 22 hours, much to the delight of his wife and daughters who all ran the shorter distance races earlier in the day. The DNF (did not finish) rate of this race was over 40% this year, a testament to the difficult conditions we faced. A huge congratulations to everyone who was able to overcome adversity and complete this event. 

If you are looking for a challenging race and are willing to travel to a remote area in Idaho, this race will not disappoint. Everything from course markings to race directors, volunteers, and race swag are on point, and I would recommend this race to anyone looking to see what Idaho Ultra Running is about.

2017 Loot

4 Years of RONR, 3 Years of '208k Challenge'

Scout Mountain Sufferfest - A Prelude to the Idaho 308k Challenge

As part of the Idaho Trail Ultra Series, the Idaho 208k Challenge is a unique opportunity to race in some of Idaho's premier high mountain ultra distance races. To complete the challenge, a runner must complete the River of No Return 108k Endurance Run and either the Scout Mountain 100k or the Beaverhead 100k. These races span just a 5 week period each summer and individually they have been drawing attention from runners across the state and the northwest. In each of the past two years, I have been fortunate to have completed the Idaho 208k, finishing RONR and Beaverhead in 2015, and Scout Mountain and RONR last year. These races have become a staple for my summer racing season the past few years as I continue to build my resume and gain more experience in the world of ultra running.

This year is no exception. As if I didn't learn my lesson last year at the scenic and challenging Scout Mountain Ultra Trail (SMUT) 100k, I decided to run again, and up the ante a bit. In 2017 I will be attempting to complete all three of these 100k+ races in 5 weeks.

After a cool spring thus far, the weekend of June 3rd came quickly along with the warmest temperatures we've seen yet this year. Coming into the race with zero heat training, I felt somewhat nervous as I spent a good portion of the same race last year suffering in the sweltering heat, and with a projected high in the upper 80's, this would be no different.

Race morning started early, as usual, alarm at 3:45, quickly throw some food into me and then finish up the final preparations before the gun goes off at 5:00 AM. The first 25 miles of the race are set in the picturesque foothills and rolling single-track heading north from Mink Creek towards Pocatello. After the first hour in the darkness, we were treated to a summit sunrise as we hit one of the early high points of the course. Shortly after the sun rose I cruised through the first aid station moving fast and enjoying the still cool morning breeze knowing that it wouldn't be long before that breeze would be a distant memory once it heated up.

The first few hours were a treat, despite the rising temperatures I was moving fast and efficiently hardly stopping at aid stations as the morning sun got higher in the sky. The wildflowers were in full bloom adding to the experience as we traversed across the hills. Eventually, I came into the aid station at City Creek around mile 25 just before 10 o'clock, nearly five hours into the race. I was on pace to be faster than last year by a considerable margin as I began the first major climb of the day.

The climb up out of City Creek starts as a gradual incline that follows the creek upstream for several miles, getting steeper the further up we went, an overall gain of around 2,500 feet in 5 miles. This section is close to 11 miles between aid stations and I got caught without water for too long last year so this year I made sure to grab two extra bottles and threw them in my pack before beginning the climb. I chatted with a woman from Canada as we climbed, finally nearing the top we had to cross a snowfield with huge steps carved for a giant, or Sasquatch perhaps. I packed my hat full of snow and forged ahead, the heat now in full force in the exposed terrain. Another 5 miles down and one mile up before we would have aid, this is one of the real tests of the course.

Top of the climb out of City Creek before we started the descent.

I came into Midnight Creek aid station knowing that the last 11 miles had taken a toll, I was ready for a quick break and an opportunity to refuel. My friends Mike and Natalie were manning the aid station and I gladly took them up on their offer of watermelon and otter pops. Once I had properly situated myself I headed off down the trail, leaving a couple of runners that had come into the aid station behind. It was a gradual 6-mile descent back to the start line before I began the final 21-mile loop that would take me up and over the monster that is Scout Mountain. I was expecting these miles to be easy, but shortly after leaving the aid station I couldn't seem to keep any sort of running pace at all, and then my stomach went south. I lost everything that I had eaten in the past few hours and didn't have any calories to replace what was now steaming on the side of the trail. Lethargic and fatigued I alternated between hiking and jogging, I could tell that it was going to be a long day. When I finally got down to Mink Creek aid station I had lost any time I had banked on my time from last year, but I was still determined to keep putting one foot in front of the other for as long as I needed to finish the race. Solid food didn't sound good but I knew I had to start eating again otherwise I would really be in trouble. I choked down a few squares of PB&J sandwich and grabbed some pretzels to take with me and headed off. This would be a long slow climb up Scout, but it would end up being the climbing break I needed to get out of my funk.

Scout Mountain from 1/3 up the climb. 

The final major climb of the race is tricky, it gains around 3,400 feet over something like 10 miles. If you had legs left it would be easy to run a good portion of it, but in my condition, it wasn't hard to convince myself to power hike the entire climb. I used this as an opportunity to continue to eat some solid food and try to get my hydration and nutrition back under control. Halfway through the climb, I arrived at the second to last aid station, I had been playing leapfrog with two other runners for much of the race and they seemed to be in similar shape as they were just getting ready to leave when I got there. I hurriedly restocked at the aid station and headed out after them, I caught one runner, JohnMark Smith (JM) after a few minutes and we stuck together as we pressed on towards the summit. As we closed in on the highest point of the course we passed a couple of tough old BTR's Mike Blessing and Randy Thorn who were running the 60k, they were deciding on the best route to take across one of many snowfields at this elevation. The snow was soft and punchy, but also extremely slippery so we all took care as we crossed, actually, we looked like a bunch of drunks stumbling across the snow.

JM trying not to fall (again)

Just passed the summit we had more snow to navigate, and I (along with countless runners before me) decided to approach this like a rational adult, by sitting down, picking up my legs and sliding out of control down the slope. Once the ground reappeared beneath me I was able to pick up the pace and run fairly comfortably down the several miles to the final aid station of the race. There were just 5 miles and two short climbs between us and the finish so JM and I headed out again together to wrap it up. In good spirits and with the end nearly in sight, we made good time on the last section of the course and I crossed the finish in just under 14 hours and 11 minutes, a few minutes faster than my time last year and good enough for 10th place male.

One race down, two to go. River of No Return 108k is looming just a few days away...

I want to say thanks to Race Director Luke Nelson, he puts on an incredible race, the course is impeccably marked and the volunteers at all of the aid stations were helpful and encouraging. This is a top class race and I will surely be back again. Our public lands are a critical part of our country and need to be protected as such. Scout Mountain Ultra Trail runs on public land in the Caribou-Targhee National Forest. People like Luke and events like these provide support to protect our right to continue to enjoy the great outdoors.