Buffalo 50 Miler - What am I "Enduring" Actually?

By Steve

Mile 41.  On the side of the trail, about 30 yards away stood the Buffalo.  His head was down (helping with my anxiety of being less than 100 feet from the sucker), in the standard Buffalo position.  My feet and hamstrings were at a level of pain that was by no means comfortable, and playing through my headphones was a series of motivational montages from the likes of Eric Thomas and Les Brown.  In the middle of one of the quotes came the phrase, "... willing to endure the pain...."  My mind suddenly locked on that phrase.

Ultra running is an endurance sport, but in my mind I've always associated the word endurance with my workouts, which are usually about how long I can "red-line" it.  Things like climbing Mt. Olympus in under 90 minutes.  Or how fast I can make the round trip to Ben Lomond peak.  But on this Buffalo race, it became clear that what I needed to endure was not in my lungs.  It was not in my muscles.  Those things actually felt pretty good.  What about my mood?  I was actually in a really good mood!  Even joking with anyone that got close enough to me.  What I needed to endure was the pain.  How long can I endure this dull aching pain in my feet and legs?

For the first 24 miles of the race my whole body felt great.  I took a great effort to keep myself from pushing too hard, and forcing myself to take short walks now and then to keep my muscles in a dynamic flux to avoid burnout in any one area.  But just about the time when I started on the long southward stretch on the east side of the island, the pain began to creep in.   My energy came and went along that 20 mile out and back stretch, but the pain remained constant.  At one point, I hit an energy low and had to walk for almost 3/4 of a mile, but after some hi-chews and a little coke, the energy came back.  But the pain was still there.

Having now run three 100ks, two 50 milers, and quite a few 50ks, I've come to know that the pain I was experiencing would quickly fade as soon as the race was over, but not until then.  But for now, in this moment at mile 41, the dull, aching pain was the companion I'd take with me the rest of the race.  I buckled down, determined to keep a 12 minute mile pace.  If I needed to walk for a minute, that would be fine, but then I'd force myself to start slowly and start building speed again until I reached the 11.5 to 12 min/mile pace again.

After a brief stop at the final aid station, I began the rolling rock run around the north end of the island.  This turned out to be my favorite section of trail for the whole day.  Even though I was still in pain, and moving with an awkward gait, I really enjoyed jumping and weaving between the boulders.  As I rounded the final corner, the pain finally faded from my mind as I saw the finish line ahead, I knew I had crushed my ten hour goal for the day.  I knew I had endured the pain and seen it through, and then, just like that, the race went from a contemplative, growing experience to a somewhat humorous situation.

I called my wife.  I had miscalculated the mileage.  Standing here, about 2 miles from the finish, I knew I was going to finish around 9:30:00.  See, my Endomondo tracking app tends to run about one mile fast for every 25 miles on trail runs.  But because of the straightness of most of the course, my endomondo was surprisingly right on track.  Between that and me "mis-remembering" the mileage of the aid stations as marked on the course map, my wife wasn't expecting me cross the finish line for another 25 minutes or so, and wasn't there yet with my children to watch me cross.

So, despite crushing my goals for the day and learning something about myself and endurance, I decided to walk the last 2 miles in order to allow her to get there.  I even stopped at the bathroom a half mile from the finish, just because I had the time.

Official results:
time:  9:39:59
Overall place:  35/135
Male place:  31/91
Men 30-39 place:  12/19

Unofficially, based on the times of the people who passed me along those last two miles, had I finished strong, I would probably have ended just under 9:30:00.

Putting this whole race in context, I feel extremely good about this.  Only 8 weeks ago was my first run after being completely side-lined for 5 weeks with health issues.  I came back from square one to smashing my goal for this race.  Next up... a sub 90 minute Olympus summit.

Commemorative Lederhosen Run

by Sam

A little more than a year ago my wife was out of town with the kids so I took advantage of the spare time and summitted Mount Olympus after school. Rarely do I get a chance to run on a nice winter afternoon. I spend most of my time running in the dark during the winter. Just as I reached the top of Olympus and was cracking open my traditional summit beverage of choice, Mtn. Dew, I heard the sound of a helicopter close by. Before I knew it, Chopper 5, a local news helicopter was circling me taking footage of my would-be solitary summit.

Little did I know, KSL news aired the footage that evening while I was still on my way down the mountain. As I got home and checked Facebook I found Davy Crockett, among others, inquiring on the Wranglers page about who had been caught on the news. Kendall Wimmer commented that it was "none other than Mr. Peakbagger of the year." Just one week prior I received an award from my running group as Peakbagger of the year for 2014. What a coincidence! And I hadn't even seen the footage yet. Through the help of Aaron Williams we were able to acquire the footage from the news reel and an Instagram post, which I included in my video of the pics I took that day, seen below.

During the news segment, Kevin Eubank said, "This guy finished his homework, and then went hiking...He's up on top with the lederhosen." He had no idea how right he was about finishing my homework, being a school teacher, and going hiking. But lederhosen? Really? Those were just my running shorts and compression calf sleeves, which I could just have easily not worn that day. The calf sleeves, not the shorts, unless I got the 5 second grumbles...

Anyway, I found this quite hilarious and almost immediately vowed to do an anniversary run the following year with actual lederhosen. In the meantime, my friendship with a fellow Wrangler, Matt Van Horn, grew deeper as he gave me a 12 pack of Mtn Dew in honor of the news clip. Matt has a drone and mad video skills. Just one month after the KSL shot he filmed another summit Dew video on Grandeur. It can be seen below.

Fast forward to the present. I made plans to summit Olympus again near the same date that the helicopter caught me up there, but this time with actual lederhosen and friends to boot. Unfortunately, the timing didn't work out with everyone and we had to wait a month, mainly because my wife was due to deliver our third child. So instead of a news report that said, "Woman gives birth in a car on the way to the hospital while her husband climbs a mountain in lederhosen" I chose to wait. :)

Last weekend, one week after my child was born, I climbed Olympus with a few of my friends, Matt Van Horn, Aaron Williams, Brad Sween, Dave Crookston and Logan Ledford. Others were invited but couldn't make it for various reasons. Unfortunately, none of the womenfolk could come, so it was a sausage fest.

About a month ago I helplessly tried to convince my wife to let me purchase some ornate expensive lederhosen. But alas, I settled for a cheaper plainer kind, at least it came with a cool hat. Aaron also bought some lederhosen. The others were a bit more creative in their lederhosen. Jeremy made some out of duct tape, Brad had some fancy schmanzy suspenders with a shot glass elastic on each strap, and Logan was more...white trash-like. It sure would have been cool to have some women in dirndls, but alas, FOMO for them!

We all met at the Olympus trailhead at 5:30am, which would put us just about on the saddle during the sunrise. Almost all of us anyway, Matt decided to get a head start in order to set up and get his drone ready. He actually walked right by us without saying a word. We figured it was someone else and kept waiting. What a douche! :) By the time we found out we started a good 20 mins late. No matter though, we enjoyed each others company and made our way up the steep trail to the summit.

Aaron and I reaching the summit. Ice axes are totally necessary here. :)

The views from the Olympus saddle and summit are spectacular. I never tire of them. Sure enough, just as we were about 1/2 way up the scramble, we heard a swarm of bees descending upon us. That would be the drone. As far as planning goes for these events we actually don't put much thought into them. It's amazing they turn out at all (thanks Matt for spectacular editing). Just think how much better they'd be if we thought it through first. We did have a general plan to have me alone on the summit first to simulate last year's chopper 5 footage. Then have my buddies join me for a toast...or was it for some toast?

And that's what we did, but what really made this video spectacular was the well practiced Bavarian jig. Which Kalina, who couldn't come, suggested we do the night before. I had seen it only in a GIF, you know... one of those silly short clips to present feelings and ideas in messages. So...basically I made it up on the spot. Then, also on the spot, someone threw out the idea to do-si-do. In the end, the candid ideas turned out better than we could've planned. Thanks again Matt for some awesome editing.

We all did a bit of yodeling here and there on the trail but the best was when Aaron did it on the summit to the dismay of some people on the saddle. They seemed scared and quickly decided to turn around and get off the mountain. All the videoing and toasting done, we packed everything up and got ready to head back down, when out of the blue these four dudes in masks robbed us of our lederhosen and had a battle on top of the summit, Lucha Libre style.

Santito Feroso, Pico Paquete, Desierto Monstruo and Campesino de Oro

I've heard of these masked menaces. They call themselves Wrangladores. I think that's some sort of combination of Wrangler and Luchador. Anyway, they like to have luchas right here in the Wasatch. They really got into the spirit of the lederhosen and did the can can together before quickly breaking into a classic battle of epic proportions that just has to be seen. Tossing our lederhosen aside, they left just as quickly as they arrived. I've always wanted to see them in action. Maybe someday soon I'll get to see them again.

Today was too much fun not to do it again next year. In fact, I plan to make this an annual tradition. When it comes down to it I'm just a big dork with dorky friends who happened to be in the right place at the right time last year with the helicopter. Any of my running buddies could've been up there instead of me. However, we'll do anything to climb a mountain with some weird quirk involved, albeit Mtn Dew, lederhosen or carrying watermelons. What's next, Elvis jumpsuits? Only time will tell.

Big thanks to Arianne Brown for writing an article about our shenanigans.

The 6 Seasons of Trail Running

By Steve



When it comes to trail running along the Wasatch Front, there are not just the four seasons of the year.  By my count, there are six.  March, Spring, Summer, Fall, Playtime, and Winter.  Starting with Spring, the basic definitions are as follows:

Spring (April - May):  This is the time of year when you are finally able to get out and hit the mountain sides running through canyons, pounding dirt, bagging peaks with a few patches of traversable snow, and most importantly of all, enjoying the absolute beauty of the mountain wildflowers. 

Summer (June - August):  This is when you are putting in the most miles, hitting every peak you've been staring at over the last 6 months, finding new routes, and piling up the race miles.

Fall (September - October):   You finish your final races, take stock of your year, and trying to wrap up any goals left from January.  The fall leaves make for amazing photos.

Playtime (November - December):  The Holidays are going on, race season and the beauty of the fall colors are now past.  But before the second or third snowfall, you hear deep within you the mountains still calling to come enjoy your company one last time.  This is the time to enjoy some fantastic group runs, to goof off in the mountains, or to just let your body heal.

Winter (Christmas - February):  The icy cold causes you to bundle up. Trail running turns into snowshoeing, and only a few trails become tracked out enough to actually run, and sadly, never as much as you'd like.  This is the time of year to build a base in your fitness level and go take advantage of the closed canyon roads.

March (yup... March):  (sigh)
Yeah... I saved this one for last.

March is its own season.  Sometimes it starts early at the end of February, and sometimes it extends into April.  But the running season of March definitely has a very specific flavor.  The temperature begins rising rapidly, the snow begins melting, and the trails start to appear from their winter slumber, which brings me to the point that...

March is a grind.  In a frantic search for dirt, you look for workouts where your feet can touch dry ground.  Once you find such a trail, you run it over and over again, just reveling in the touch of dirt.  Should you go explore somewhere else?  No, you have some races coming up and you need to ensure your miles are good and efficient. Your dry ground routes are so very limited, that you are forced to go back to the same trail day in and day out.  Occasionally, you'll try to go somewhere else, and before you know it, that trail turns into a snow-covered, post-holing, bloody shin experience as you post-hole through icy surface, which leads me to believe that...

March is schizophrenic.  Yesterday my grind trail was dry.  Today it is covered in three inches of snow.  Tomorrow it will be a sloppy, muddy mess.  And that is just the section of dry ground that I could actually run on.  On a single run, you can end up with a PR mile time, extremely muddy legs, and still have worn your micro-spikes for a mile or so.  But despite all of that, there is some kind of driving force that brings you back to the same trails every day, which brings me to my final point that...

March is Optimistic.  With the exception of a few weather related setbacks and lousy runs, each day brings a faster run.  Each day the trails become a little better.  Each day your headlamp turns off a couple minutes earlier.  Like watching a pot of water coming to a boil, you slowly see the mountains wake up, little by little, day by day.  Every day your see your elevation and distance climb a little higher and farther with each workout. 

Each season has its own flavor.  March, however, is a category all on its own.  All the other seasons, you pretty much know what to expect every day.  But the thing about trail running in March, is that it is perfectly in step with the famous saying that running in that season comes in like a lamb and goes out like a lion.  Or is it the other way around?  I can never remember.

Revival

By Steve

6:58am at the start

By my nature, I'm a competitive person.   And as part of that, I have a tendency to beat myself up when I come up short of my expectations.  I had planned on having 2015 be my breakout year.  Instead, after a couple sickness and an injury, I ended up letting every little thing get me down.  Any hurdle that came up in my life or in running I used as an excuse on why I couldn't get a groove in running.  I expected life to stop moving so that I could train the way I wanted to train.  That lead to more failure, which lead to more moping.  And all that moping lead to me not wanting to blog anything.

About 7 weeks ago, I had a moment of clarity.  I realized that I was mostly bringing all this "bad luck" on myself.  Yes, I had some health issues.  Yes, I have some asthma and post nasal drip.  Yes, I'd blamed other people for not working with my schedule.  But those weren't the things that were stopping me from becoming a good runner again.

Over these last 7 weeks, I've found that groove I had been searching for.  By taking responsibility for myself, running has suddenly become much more fun again.  I find myself wanting to talk about running for the first time in a long time.  I find myself wanting to catch up to the best and the fastest of the Wasatch Mountain Wranglers, even though I know I still have some hard work to get anywhere near the main players in this group.

Over this last weekend, a relatively large group of Wasatch Mountain Wranglers organized a run down at the Wedge on the San Rafael Swell down south of Price.  None of the other OTMs were able to go, but for me, that is the ideal place to do a test of my physical level.  I really wanted to use this as a good training run without spending too much time chatting with friends during the run, so I opted to start an hour early by myself, and then after the run I would make a couple dutch oven cobblers for everyone so I would be forced to sit and talk to them all. I'm perfectly happy being an introvert.

After waking up before the butt-crack of dawn, I drove the 3.5 hours and started at 7:00am.  I can now always say that the first place I met Steve Frogley in person was at the entrance to the crapper as we met in the doorway.

Map.  You can see where I cut short the last two out and backs.

I set out with the general goal to see how far I could average a ten minute mile pace.  I knew this was way too fast for me and that there was no way I would sustain that pace for the whole run, but running the whole 50k at the best time possible wasn't the goal.  I plowed through the aid station at nine miles and was able to keep the pace on the slight uphill till the turnaround at 16 miles.  Because I got there so much faster than I thought, I accidentally kept going for another three quarters of a mile along the rim thinking it wasn't time to turn around yet.  Whoops!  After the trail disappeared and I reached another overlook, I finally turned around.  However, at this point I was pretty beat.

I returned to the aid station at a much slower 12 minute mile pace, still relatively happy with how I was doing, but then tanked pretty hard after that.  I walked a bunch of the last five miles, and then even cut off the last two out and backs in order to finish in roughly 6 hours with 30.8 miles, just a quarter mile short of a 50k.

With both Sam's and my dutch ovens, I cooked up a peach cobbler and an apple cinnamon cobbler.  They were a hit with the 22 mile runners who had finished just before me.  The other 50k runners didn't finish for quite some time, so they got it cold.

So... How am I feeling about all of this?  Really good.  I had hoped to do a little better on this run, but it was pretty much what I expected.  Most of all, I feel very confident about this year.  In two and a half weeks, I'm running the Antelope Island 50 miler, and I couldn't be more excited to get out there and enjoy the crap out of it.  It's going to be a good year!

Group Photo of everyone except me.  I was somewhere around mile 9 at this point