2011 Bear 100

Running a hundred miles was an all-consuming thought in preparation for Wasatch last year.  Coming into my 2011 focus race - The Bear 100 - however, I had much more on my plate in my personal life, so running became more of an afterthought.  I didn't follow a schedule at all this year, but got out and ran only when I felt like it.  Doing so helped me keep a more solid grip on reality, but I probably slacked more than I should have.  I also didn't focus on my diet or mental preparation nearly as much this year.

Even with the less than stellar training, I felt as though I could go out there and hit my goal of 24 hours.  I was planning to run on ability alone, which anyone can tell you doesn't really work when running a one hundred mile endurance run.  Silly Josh, when will you learn?  When I go out and experience it myself, that's when!  I don't do well when people tell me what to do, so I go out and usually find ways to learn my own lessons.  Well, I learned a lesson this year and it happened in the last 30 miles of the race.

Race morning came and things were calm.  One thing about the start line of a hundred miler is that there's no nerves involved, at least for me.  You have an entire day ahead of you so there's nothing to be nervous about.  So the start came and went, and the train of lights made its way up the mountain.  I felt ok on the climb, but not great.  I was also having difficulty getting my head into it.  There's definitely a place you need to put your mind in a long race, and mine wasn't there.  I made it to the top of the climb and cruised to the Logan Peak Aid Station (mile 10.5).  After shoving my face full of strawberries and cantaloupe, I went on my way and continued with the battle in my head.

I know this may sound strange to a non-runner (or maybe even a runner), but I don't remember much about the next 20 miles or so.  My legs were on auto-pilot and I was just moving along.  I do remember the scenery being pretty fantastic, and I do remember seeing my parents at the Leatham Hollow Aid Station (mile 19.6), but that's about the extent of it. 

After moving through the Cowley Aid Station (mile 29.9), it was really starting to heat up.  I slowed down quite a bit, but remained ahead of my splits.  It was between here and Right Hand Fork (mile 36.9) that my stomach started to revolt a bit, so I had to slow down when I ate and give it a few minutes to digest.  The heat was starting to take its toll and I started thinking about how easy it would be to drop.  I honestly didn't even care any longer, I just wanted to be done.  I just kept grinding at it and eventually ended up at Temple Fork (mile 45.1) where I sat down for a minute, wiped off my face and talked with my parents.  I was wiped out from the heat, but it was only 3:00 pm so I became demoralized at having to face the heat any longer.  However, my dad mentioned that the next section would be in the shade.  I didn't know if he was just trying to get me moving, but it worked and the next section was almost completely shaded.  What a relief!

The climb up from the road wasn't too tough, but it did seem pretty long.  What's even worse is when you see people out on course and they tell you how far it is, but then they're way off... Yeah, that happened several times in this race.  I did make it to the top though, then dropped down into some sweet single track leading to the lake and the Tony Grove Aid Station (mile 51.8).  I took a little extra time here to change socks and drain some blisters, none of which were too bad just yet.  However, I knew that if I had a few now, that meant a lot later. 

I got back on my way and kept a steady pace.  However, I was busy following someone and we missed a turn.  The markings were obvious, but I was following him and not the trail.  I've done this numerous times and you'd think I'd learn by now, but no.  When you're fatigued you do some pretty stupid stuff.  Luckily, I only lost 7 or 8 minutes by this little mishap, so nothing too serious.  Aside from the miscue, these 19 miles from Tony Grove to Logan River were my best of the race.  I was taking care of myself, my head was finally in the game and I was moving great, picking off people along the way.  The only other thing of note was playing leapfrog with some guys on horses for about 3 miles, all while inhaling lots of dust.  Good times!

I arrived at the Logan River Aid Station (mile 69.5) in pretty good shape and in about 24th place.  I swapped out my jacket for one a bit heavier since I was getting cold, then moved on out.  For as good as I was feeling on the previous sections, this next section to Lodge (mile 75.8)  was terrible.  I was starting to get quite tired and my stomach decided to stop processing food again.  I almost puked on two separate gels here, so I basically stopped eating during this section.  It was a grind.  My quads were basically dead at this point and my left IT band started acting up.  I've never had a problem with the left one before, so it came as a bit of a surprise to me.  Then to top it off, about a mile from the Lodge, my eyes were getting tired and ended up going off trail.  I panicked since I didn't know how long it had been since I'd seen the last marker.  Eventually though, I gained my wits and just turned out my headlamp.  I kept focused on my surroundings, waiting to see other lights coming off the mountain so I could follow them in.  After 7 or 8 minutes, two lights came bounding at me and I was able to find the trail again.  Another catastrophe averted.

I came into the Lodge and was mentally defeated.  I decided to take my sweet time here and just enjoy the rest of the experience because I knew I wouldn't make my goal.  I ate some soup, grabbed my waist pack and filled it with things non-gel, drank some Coke and finally headed out the door.  It was a 30 minute stop - by far my longest of the race - but also much needed I think.  I knew I wouldn't finish if I didn't take the time to get back in the game here.

I clicked off the next two sections, basically keeping my placing in the race and just moving forward.  I came off the climb down into Beaver Creek (mile 85.3) and was faced with a river crossing.  Since the forest service wouldn't allow them to build a bridge here, a makeshift log was put into place where you crossed.  With a long stick in one hand to keep my balance, I made my way across and at about the half way mark I slipped and went into the drink; soaked from the waist down.  Nothing like a nice late night swim!  Once I got to the aid station I changed my shoes and socks and invited my dad to join me for the last 15 miles.  I knew I'd be slow since my knee was hurting so bad and I had a couple real nasty blisters.

About a mile out of the aid station I was running along and missed seeing a large rock.  It smacked me in the middle of my shin while my leg was swinging forward full-force.  It took me a second to realize what had happened, but I finally stopped for a moment to grimace in pain.  Then around two miles out from the aid we headed straight down a long, open road.  We didn't notice any course markings, but thought we'd keep moving ahead.  Earlier in the race on the long, open, obvious sections like this, the markings were quite a ways apart so with that thinking in mind we kept going, and going, and going.  Finally the road started to bend and we saw another runner out ahead of us.  We all grouped together (by then another runner was with us) and we decided to go back.  My dad went ahead and found where we'd missed the turn and showed us.  The marking was nailed to a post where it had obviously been tampered with as only the top portion was left under the nail.  It was probably 3/4 of an inch to an inch long and the rest had obviously been torn off.  Come to find out later that some ATV'ers had taken down the marking there.  So there's another 45 minutes wasted!  I was ready to quit, but I'm stubborn so I kept moving forward.  My dad stayed back and made a huge arrow on the road out of sticks and branches.  We didn't want any other runners to have to experience what we just went through. 

After moving through the Ranger Dip Aid Station (mile 92.2) and grinding up the climb just past it, I knew I was in for a long, painful downhill.  It felt like someone was driving nail into my shin with every step.  Then every time I had to really slow down or stop, my IT band would start giving me fits.  Back and forth all the way down the mountain.  At times the pain was so bad I would just be laughing.  You know the kind of hurt where it's so bad the only thing you can do is that weird, teeth-clinching laugh?  Yeah, that was me for about 5 miles straight.  Once we got off the downhill though, I was able to run it in the rest of the way at a fairly decent pace.  I eventually arrived and crossed the line in 27:44:46, 50th place overall.

It's been over a week and I've had some time to let things sink in.  I ran a great race through 70 miles, then completely imploded the last 30.  I learned my lesson and that lesson is that you can't fake 100 miles.  I'm very proud of myself for sticking it out though and finishing such a tough race.  A huge thanks to my parents for being there with me and helping me through it.  Couldn't have done it without them.  Also a thanks to all the volunteers and organizers.  I've heard people rag on this race in the past for poor course markings, but I didn't have any major complaints about it.  Maybe on those long, obvious stretches they could put markings closer together so you never have to wonder about things.  Overall though, it was marked very well.

You've really gotta put in the time and mental focus to be able to do well in these races.  I know what I'm capable of.  Now it's just a question of whether or not I'm willing to put in the effort to get there.  That's a question I can't answer today, unfortunately.  Life's responsibilities will always take precedence over running.  However, if the desire and time is there, I'd love to see what I'm capable of doing.