Bear 100

It was sometime after 5:00 am on Saturday as Ben and I headed toward the Beaver Creek Aide Station.  The lightening flashing overhead signaled a rebirth of the storm that had been coming off and on all night.  We had just crested a hill and were making our decent.  The sound of each step ended in a giant splash as we attempted in vain to avoid the rivers of water between the endlessly slick and sticky mud. My right knee felt like a giant softball made of sand grinding with every step. Suddenly everything went sideways hearing a crack as the back of my head hit a rock. Staring at the stark beauty of nothing as rain crossed the beam of my headlamp and the fog from my breath disappeared out of view. The water was running down my body.  The cold of the predawn hours were settling into my bones. It felt good, even just for a moment to lie and be still.  As if to call me back from a dream, Ben’s voice pulled me back to reality.  Pain, cold, wet, someplace I didn’t want to be. 

The woods are lovely, dark and deep.
But I have promises to keep.
And miles before I sleep.
And miles before I sleep. 

-Robert Frost

The climb was uneventful as a group of us chatted up the morning.  It felt like old times, the good group runs where everyone was full of life and the energy was flowing through and around everything. The views were amazing. Having just left the first Aide Station at Logan Peak on Friday morning I admired the beautiful fall colors.  A small stand of aspens framed by pine received the mornings sunlight perfectly and set the brightest yellow on fire. Amazing. It was truly a privilege to be out here, at this time, right now.

The Pirate and I 

I did a self check of my supplies.  Water, check, food check, gels… gels… where are the rest of my gels?  My previous mistakes of forgetting my running shorts, misunderstanding drop bag drop off and a broken headlamp had set me back mentally.  I counted and recounted and did the math.  I was short one gel.  Crap. I turned my mind toward the decent down to the second aide station where I would see my crew.  Keep moving, be focused, you have a long way to go, I kept telling myself. I watched Aaron Williams (aka The Pirate) bomb the down hill and disappear out of sight. The decent got steeper, the air got warmer.  Cars and tents, the view of Leatham Hollow from the top of the canyon made me feel relieved mentally.  Racing toward the bottom, flying throughout the autumn trees, a sudden pain hit my right big toe as the toenail pushed back into the toe behind it. It took my breath away and almost knocked me off my feet. I kept my mind focused and moving. 

Crews, Family, Friends, always a welcoming, cheering, encouragement, they are greatly under appreciated.

 Serenade Meadows

The clouds were life giving shade under a relentlessly hot sun.  The Pirate and I headed to Crowley Canyon through the "Serenade Meadows" as the one and only Davy Crockett sang along to the music in his headphones.  The rocks and cliffs were mixed with grass meadows and painted with fall colors. A small stream ran through the middle.  Yellow aspen leaves coated the banks and floated along like little sailboats heading to a great journey. This place was magical, special.

The heat baked everything from the dirt crumbling under our shoes to the back of our neck as Scott and I headed out of Right Fork. A western movie with two cowboys heading out for adventure.  A classic scene with the two winding along the river in the valley.  The rush of the river beacons for just a moment of relaxation in its clear cool water.   Lush green fields pinned by gently sloping hills to the mountains.  Some place for a homestead.  A place you would want to live.  

Wrangling with the Cowboy

Reality, the hustle and bustle of an aide station with all the urgency of an international airport. The roar of the engines, the passengers mingling at the gate.  No crew, a missed connection.  No worries we will get them on the next flight.  We hurried and left Temple Fork, eager to conquer our next challenge.  The climb came and it came fast.  The Cowboy recalled his many adventures in climbing and the medical field.  Some to great amusement, others to the deafening roar of crickets. The job of a pacer can be thankless.  I prepared my cave here. I began to “setup shop” as some would say. Building a fire for the long night ahead.  The thunder clapped far off over the range, and a light rain began to fall. Relief from the torment of the heat. The aspens, they are just beautiful! The Cowboy stayed focused on the task at hand.

The beach scene, its where all the cool kids were hanging out.  Lawn chairs, food, excitement, people clapping and cheering as we entered Tonys Grove.  A nice quite spot.  Pizza, oh my gosh…. Pizza…. This was the best party ever!  A change of socks, the toe begins to tell its tale.  Don’t look, just put the next one on… New shoes. The cowboy and I saddle up for one last ride.  The light was fading fast as the lightening streaked across the sky.  Endlessly deafening was the sound of a river raging on in the night.  A body appeared out of nowhere lying on the trail.  A murder scene or mystery?  DJ, a true Rough Neck if there ever was one.  Refined in the fires of Hades itself he was born again with the toughness of ten thousand razorbacks.  “I’m just taking a rest for a second.”  That was all I need to hear, he was ok.

A needed break at the beach party

Ben constantly bounced up the trail with the energy of a spring rabbit.  The Rabbit taunted me. Endlessly taunting me to follow as if I were Alice in Wonderland.  Bounding from tree to tree he lead the way out and up from Franklin Basin.  The dark of night had settled in and the energy was intoxicating.  Climbing up.  Looking up.  How are headlamps all the way up there?  Do I really have to climb that high?  Am I hallucinating? The Rabbit beckoned pushing the pace on the “flats", using night to his advantage to run up, ever higher up.  No wait, down now we are going down.  The Rabbit bounded ahead.  The trees silent and still like running down a hall at night.  Never ending with the head lamps beam focused on the dirt road ahead.

Hot broth.  If you have ever watched a commercial where someone is snuggled up in a blanket sipping there favorite winter time soup? That would have been it times a thousand.  The only problem is that you would have to add twenty other people in various states of distress, some battling demons. It was Mash on steroids.  I looked at the Rabbit.  We have to get out of here… We crossed the Logan River and headed up.  It was then we found the Dark Horse, a Stallion really.  Kendall Wimmer went on to finish the Rocky Mountain Slam the next day.  A truly amazing journey, awe-inspiring.  As the Stallion would put it “Bam”. The Rabbit and Stallion headed up, ever up.  

Then it started to happen.  It not only started to rain, but pour.  It was if we were now on a movie set and people were throwing water at us.  I waited for the director to yell cut, but no avail. We crested the ridge.  My shoes quickly became ice skates.  This was not the movie I wanted to be in… But yet it was almost whimsical.  The Rabbit and I moved to the brush on the side of the trail.  I followed his lead bounding over the sage as we continued to head down.  Slip, smack, crack, I heard repeatedly as I failed to gain control of the skates beneath me.  The knee began to ache.  

The Sentry stood post outside the fort in the rain waiting for his man to come in.  My father would not abandon his post.  Finally relief a warm place to shelter from the cold and wet of the night.  The Sentry, the Sailors Wife and the Cowboy went to work on the Rabbit and I.  The Stallion spoke, “Don’t stay, get out”.  The words were heard but not registered.  Finally the haze cleared, get out the door, focus, you need to leave this place.  Out of safety, out of comfort. Out the door we went, back in we came for warmer and dry clothes, it was cold.. Again the Rabbit and I set out to face the storm.  

The Rabbit looked back, “See what I mean about the poles?"  Trekking poles my new best friend. Thank you wise Rabbit.  Climbing again, up we went, the Rabbit taunting me in the late night hours. Slipping uphill should be a sport.  All the reward of going no where.  The poles dug, the Rabbit pushed. We found it!  We ran toward the light at the end of the road.  It was a ship wreck.  A hardy crew hold up in the blowing rain and lightening doing their best to help the survivors find shelter.  “I think I have been sleep walking!”, the Rabbit turns and says to me.  “I had better watch the course markings”, I laughed to myself silently.  "The next aid is 4 miles away and its mostly flat” I heard a voice call out.  Lets go Rabbit I bet we can find shelter there.  

It was now past 5:00 am on Saturday morning.  Shaking violently my headlamp began to blink signaling the inevitable death of the batteries inside.  It wasn’t dawn yet but it was close.  My energy had a single focus.  Get to the next aide.  Nothing else.  The pain in the knee had amplified from the conditions and falls of the night.  Time stood still, every step was played out in slow motion. The daylight broke.  The trail appeared before our eyes.  There was nothing but mud and water.  No safe place to step.  Every move was calculated.  We found our goal.

The siren song of the fire beaconed me, “Come and sit for just a while, I promise it won’t be long...” Shelter from the rain, a warm blanket, the soft flicker of the flame. Still the shivering never stopped. The rain dripped from every corner of the shelter, It permeated everything. Nothing was sacred.  I looked at the Rabbit as he stood shaking in the cold morning air.  ‘Don’t do it” he said in a soft reverent tone, as if to read my mind. "My knee, the rain, the mud, how can I possibly do it?” This was my moment.  This is when I would decide to finish the race or not.  A new racer came into the shelter.  Longing for the fire he sat across from me.  Safety and security, warmth and comfort.. “Here do you want my blanket?” I offered him.  It was all gone in a matter of seconds.  I had only one thing to do.  “215 OUT!” I stormed off up the trail, without telling Rabbit. I was MAD! I was going to finish, I had promises to keep.  

7 miles of climbing, slipping, as the morning unfolded.  The clouds covered the peaks, the trails told of the struggles before. The colors still vibrant as we ascended to the final aide. The Rabbit looked back, “They will never believe you.., There is no way they could possibly know what this was like.” The fatigue in his eyes told his story.  He was giving it his all.  Everything he had, just for me to run this race. Selflessness like this is hard to find.  Steph, my wife, looked at me as though I had been lost at sea for days. With a warm embrace the Sailors Wife welcomed me to the last aide.  Worried and yet supportive she encouraged me to stay the course.  The Sentry ever so watchful was attending to my needs. The stories were scattered about the tole the storm had taken.  I wanted to know about my friends, how they had faired.  But I found no comfort there.  Quickly we left again on our last journey of the day. 

Rabbit and I at the finish

I could continue, but like the Rabbit said.  No one would believe you.  And honestly they wouldn’t, it was comical and epic all at once.  I pushed and pushed through such hellish conditions after Ranger Dip, they were just indescribable.  My knee was done.  My run was just a near hobble. By the time we could see the finish line, I pushed hard to run it it.  The intensity of the pain was overridden by the joy of finishing.  I crossed, an emotional mess, some from pain, some from achieving a goal that I had set out for 3 years ago.

To those who helped me I can never thank you enough

The Reward