Tuesday, June 19, 2018

Bighorn 100

On Saturday, I finished the Bighorn 100 for my second year in a row, tallying my buckles to 7 for the 100 mile distance, and as usual I have some thoughts about those 33 hours and 36 minutes.

Any report you read from last year, 2017 and this 2018, will most certainly mention the mud, or that writer was at a different race. Frankly, if you want to read in depth about the mud, scroll down to my Bighorn post from last year, because minus some players in the great journey, the report could ALMOST be the same. In my humble opinion, it was worse this year, but that is a factor that could vary from runner to runner. But, i think everyone would agree the shear mileage of muddy trail by far surpassed 2017.

I'll be brutally blunt, I got into a bad head space almost immediately starting Bighorn. By mile 8 or 9 I found myself inside my head over thinking every very unlikely scenario of my daughters safe and soundness back home. Why? I don't know. I quite adequately argued with myself about motherly instinct and over-active imagination from the underbelly of dark world thoughts. Dramatic? Yes, of course I am.

When I got to mile 13, the Dry Fork Aid and only Crew station that I would see my people until mile 48, I was barely thinking about the race under my feet at all. Betsy, I'm worried about the girls. "They're fine, Nat"
(in a very "I get it", kinda voice)
She said she'd call Scott and tell the girls I love them, and get messages from them she'd deliver tomorrow...(ahh..mental relief).

She also reminded me, that was a good time to eat:)

My lovely pacer Dee, parted ways with Jen and Betsy here to ultimately make her way up to the turn around with Eve & the legend known as Sherpa Jim ;) -The lovely Carrie's husband and Crew extraordinaire. Betsy and Jen went back into town to get ready for their 52 mile race the following morning. We packed me up and out, and I set off on the dirt road, into the afternoon, into the tangles and slips, the ups and face plants, the angry wet elements thrown gauntlets and the soft views through them, that the next 30 hours would bring. 

I particularly get distracted by squirrels when reading a mile by mile breakdown, so I'll try my best to get to the juicy grinds and over described moments that really help me walk the line between a report and a true story. The weather was perfect! Ya know, until it wasn't. On my way to Sally's Footbridge, Mile 30, the sky suddenly went Haunted House gray and the temperatures dropped quickly, as we have all seen happen in our lives. "uh Oh" a female runner said behind me, and as if she was already aware, the sky opened up a hail storm on top of us.  
I will bring up the mud, because this is where it started and stayed for most of the race. We were at mile 24 (roughly).
The sky ablaze with current and devastating thunder claps
was not enough to break my spirit, yet. I felt very confidant in my steep downhill running to the Footbridge in what tomorrow would come concrete textured mud, today was wet puddles and in place rocks to run through and right over. 

Sally's, Mile 30  in 5:52pm
crewing myself I:
washed my feet,
changed my socks,
emptied and repacked vest
Ate mashed potatoes
Drank an Ultragen
Ate Chicken tenders 
put on pants and dry warm clothes
out at 6:17 pm.
Again I'll refer you to 2017's post on the mud going up to Jaws. The top was better than last year, I will note. And,  I even smiled when I saw the trees Cheryl and i held on to going what felt like upstream not uphill, last year. 
The dance inside my head for these 18 miles went something like this; Hit some aid stations, eat a lot, peeing alot, peeing too much? Probably need salt. What mile is this, what time is it? How long have I been out here? Yay, a flag, this course is so well marked. Ugh, this mud, ugh. ughhhh. Relax, settle down, lots of race left. Be patient. ughhhh mud. so wet. so cold. is that rain? no, that's snow. Actually, i think it's frozen rain. Second headlamp. Now..i think it's just rain. ooh, the road, almost there. pee again. Crap, i peed on myself , hmm that's better than Piss! I crapped on myself, I'm pretty clever with word play... oooh big tent. boom, Jaws. 

Jaws, Mile 48 in at 12:55
Crew'd by Dee and Sherpa Jim we:
ate chicken fingers and fries, they were warm!!!
drank lemonade
dried off feet
changed socks
Dry Clothes
New headlamps
Bladder filled
Unpack and pack again
heavy rain jacket
out at 1:14 am
What goes up...
Dee and I headed out in to the dark, to retrace the 18 miles I just tackled. When I signed up for Bighorn, I didn't secure a pacer or a crew. I was so high on 2017 and the 3 100's I did, I didn't think much past the thrill.
When Dee told me over mimosa's and a Betsy Birthday run (how we roll) that she would come to Bighorn, I about kissed her. It wasn't too bad going up alone, but my spirit was bowing ever so slightly from what was clearly going to be another mud run. The muddy, sticky and slippery terrain continued down, down, down,through all 3 aid stations 2 little bridges, and back in to Sally's. 

Sally's Mile 66 in at 7:05
Crew'd by Dee and myself I;
Washed feet
Changed socks,
Changed shoes
took off wet clothes
dry arm warmers and sleeveless shirt
ate 2 pancakes and 2 sausage
drank a lemonade
Broke the zipper on my drop bag, Shit.
wrapped up drop bag with Duct tape
unpacked and packed vest
"Dee Im heading out, catch me"
out at 7:30 am
Dee caught me after about 15 minutes, i think. The runners I knew out there, Carrie, Stacey, Eve..we were all within minutes of each other, as we climbed up aforementioned concrete textured mud. What I mean by that, is simple, part of this climb was like hiking up through a freshly poured driveway. I started to realize that "well, last year, it got better here..."
 was something I should probably stop saying. The texture changed back to slick and sticky until we ultimately reached the loooong dirt road to Dry Fork for the second time. 
It was hard not to get discouraged. By the time the ground beneath came back to running life, my feet and ankles were trashed from the footing battles of the countless past hours.  I never felt like I wasn't going to make the 3:00pm cut-off, but I had high hopes for this years Bighorn, which clearly coincided with my high hopes for this years Bighorn weather.
So much of the race was just not-fun running, and on the way to the aid station, I pumped and pepped myself up with gels and promise of the finish.  We worked hard to get right here, and we weren't done yet.
Dry Fork Mile 82 in at 2:01
Crew'd by Dee
Ate mashed potatoes 
Drank an ultragen.
Washed Feet Again!
Changed Socks Again!
Pack emptied and filled
Red Bull for the road
out at 2:14pm
Time to wrap this Shiz up...
...But not before a weepy painful scene
I crashed about 2 hours after leaving the aid station. Dee stopped at mile 82 when I went out for this last stretch. She didn't feel good about all the downhill, and I did...until I didn't.
huh, my feet hurt. Duh.
I winced at every step, i tripped on rocks and fell into trail brush, trying to do a speedy tip toe and limit impact on my pruned, wet, paper thinned skin feet bottoms and swollen ankle joints that really weren't into hinging at the moment, like at all. So, out of character, I let it get the better of me.
and I wept angrily in my pity party pain cave.
"There's my friend!" I hear from behind.
And, I bellowed,  "Betsy!"
I tol her she didnt have to wait for me, and she rolled her eyes:)
She told me about the messages the girls sent, that I could see as soon as we finished and got to the car.
We had about 8 miles to the finish. Every step and breath i took was strained.
I couldn't really talk, when I did, i just whined.
I wanted to walk. But, my walk was a crawl, so I nuzzled in right behind my friend, and just watched her feet, and tried to mimic every step to keep her pace, waiting to go numb in the lower extremities.
I was hallucinating a woman in the bushes taking our pictures, and the bridge I was longing for kept appearing, but never really there. I got lost for a moment watching the tall grass blow in the wind, and I mustered a seed of thankfulness that it wasn't too hot, and hadn't been the last 2 days. We were getting closer to the road. We crossed the street, into the park, and through the finish line together. 
Reflection: 
Bighorn took it's toll not only on me, but many other runners.  It felt like trying to keep your balance in a washing machine for so long, that when it spit you out on dry land, so many of us were ship wrecked. Sometimes, after a race, i think to myself, see that wasn't as hard as i thought it was in the moment.  But, not this one.
Bighorn100 2018  33:36












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