The Most Wonderful Time of the Year

After Bighorn 100 I spent the next two weeks visiting family, traveling, and generally relaxing.  It was good.  But as we slipped into the heart (and heat) of summer, I started to have feelings of anxiety.  It was already July and I had not even been the high country yet!  Sometimes summer feels like a ticking time bomb;  minutes, hours, and days slip away and all of a sudden its over.  Its mountain running season; the most wonderful time of the year! Time to get down to business.

Often there is no better way to loosen up stiff legs than to run fast, and I did my best to do that at the Dolomite Dash, a local 21K on Limestone Mountain.  It has a couple thousand feet of climbing and descending on some truly awful trail, but the views are excellent.  The pace started blisteringly fast and I struggled to hang on.  It felt like it took me the first 10 miles to get warmed up.  In the end, I got my climbing legs going and was fortunate to take the top spot for the second time.

Blustery "podium" on Limestone Mountain for the 5K, 10K, and 21K

Once the Dolomite Dash was over it was time for the real fun to begin.  I headed over to Big Sandy to do run up East Temple Peak.  I got stormed off the pass last year, and I was wondering what its like up there all winter and spring.  One might say, it rocked.

At 12, 645', East Temple Peak is one of the more iconic peaks of the Wind River Range, with its huge north face and the detached pinnacle of Lost Temple Spire.  Scrambling up the southwest ridge is straightforward, and running down the steep loose rock of Temple Pass was a blast.

Stunning wildflowers and a view of East Temple Peak

Chillin' on the summit of East Temple with my partner, Tayo

Yo, Temple Peak

A little swimming hole above Clear Lake

Big country

Cirque of the Towers side trip

I was convinced the entire run my wife who is eight and half months pregnant must be in labor so I ran my socks off.  It felt like a race effort and I was totally wiped when it was all said and done.  Fortunately, nothing helps recovery like cinnamon rolls!  That's right, instead squeezing that watermelon looking thing out of her gut she was making cinnamon rolls.  Obviously a  much better reason to redline it home.

Jenny is awesome

 A few days later my buddy Evan and I schemed to run up Fremont Peak in the northern end of the Wind River Range.  Fremont Peak is a beautiful mountain that dominates the skyline on the west side of the Winds.  For a long time I assumed there were only technical routes up the peak because its sides are so steep and covered in glaciers.  Its a big mountain; at 13,743', its only 66 feet lower than Gannett Peak and 33 feet shorter than the Grand Teton to be the third highest peak in the state.  I mean, its not a Colorado "fourteener", so its kind of lame, but somehow we make due in Wyoming.

We left Lander at 5AM to run in 17 miles to the summit.  We went up the southwest ridge and gully, which are steep, but well featured for 1700' of scrambling.  Some slabs were wet from a little bit of mid-summer snow that was just melting off.  The summit is very exposed, which probably got my heart rate up a little higher as well.

Fremont Peak is the broad beast in the middle of the this shot from "Photographer's Point"

Fremont Peak towering above Island Lake

Wind River Running

Evan's a crusher

So much stoke in Indian Basin

Indian Basin is alpine to the core

Clouds rolling in on top of Fremont Peak

Fremont Peak's summit ridge is gnarly

The sprawling Upper Fremont Glacier, and Gannett Peak in the background (the one with snow on top)

Recovery this time was aided by 25 pounds of Palisade Peaches!  Somebody from Grand Junction drove up to Lander to make a buck or two.  I left them my contact information and asked them to tell me when they are coming back with more.

Someday I'm going to quit everything and own a peach orchard in Palisade

A few days after bonding with Fremont Peak I made the quick trip up to Grand Teton National Park with the hopes of climbing the Middle and South Tetons with my coach Ty Draney.  It was pretty stormy in the Tetons the night before, and as I drove over Togwotee Pass just after sunrise, the Tetons were still engulfed in a thick grey cloud.  Thunderstorms were forecasted for the afternoon, so we decided to bail on the summits.  I've covered some ground in the Tetons, but I had actually never been to Hurricane Pass, so we decided that was a safer destination for the day.  Ty is getting ready for a John Muir Trail unsupported FKT attempt, so he was slogging a 20 pound pack up the pass.

On Hurricane Pass: Grand, Middle, and South Tetons (L to R)

Schoolroom Glacier and its cute little meltwater lake

Ty surrounded by wildflowers and heading towards the glacier

Online distance running coaching is somewhat of a recent phenomenon, but I've got nothing but positives to say about Ty's coaching.  I feel fitter than ever and I'm excited for Wasatch 100 in September.  My training is bound to get a little disjointed with the arrival of a new little one any day now, plus the start of the school year, but I'm sure I'll squeeze in a little bit more Wind River running.

Also, a few of those Palisade peaches turned into peach crisp.  Awesome.

Why won't Haagen-Dazs sponsor me?

She's a magician in the kitchen

2015 Bighorn 100 Race Report

"Please tell me you have at least have a few butterflies in your stomach" said my 67-year old Uncle Don, as I stood next to my truck putting sun screen on beneath the hot Tongue River Canyon sun.  Don is the leanest, strongest, and toughest looking "old" dude I've ever known.  I shook my head and smiled, "I'm going to try and not even think about racing until Jaws".  The Jaw's Trailhead is about 5,000 feet above us and 50ish miles away.  It's the turnaround spot for the out-and-back 100-mile race and it is the starting spot of the 50-mile race, which Don was doing for his very first 50-mile race.  You bet he was nervous.

11 AM, Mile 1: Stretching the legs out a bit at the start of the race

I was fairly relaxed at the start of this race, partly because of experience, but also because I was just happy to be at the starting line.  I'd spent the last three weeks fighting off patellar tendonitis (more on that later) and a re-aggravated sprained ankle.  It felt good to going out on a proper long day running in the mountains.  My personal expectations for the race had maybe relaxed a little bit as well, so I started off the first 4,000ish foot climb to the Dry Fork Ridge Aid station at a nice moderate pace.

11 AM, Mile 1: Just happy to be running

Dry Fork Ridge is way up there somewhere

The climb up to the Dry Fork Aid Station was hot, but uneventful.  The lead "pack" organized itself quickly, and there was very little passing.  I came into Dry Fork feeling hot, but very good in maybe 5th or 6th place.  I grabbed some more gel and a bag of Cheetos, high-fived my crew, and started off towards the Footbridge Aid Station, another 16ish miles away.

1:30 PM, Mile 13.5: Leaving Dry Fork Ridge

I knew the next section through the heat of the day to Footbridge would be tough, so I backed off on the pace even a little more, and I tried to eat and drink as much as I could.  The heat was tough and I could tell that I was starting to struggle.  I dumped cold water on my head, but soon I realized all of my clothes were soaked from sweat, not ice water.  I was relieved when I got to a section of the course called "The Wall".  Its down 2,400' in about 3 miles.  The upper section was so muddy I saw one guy step into the mud only to have his shoe disappear.  I ran ahead as he dug through the mud trying to find his shoe.  Further down the wall it was fairly technical and steep but I enjoyed making my way down to the Tongue River.

4:30 PM, Mile 30: Suffering from the heat and arriving at the Footbridge Aid Station

I told Jenny right away that I needed to sit in the shade for a minute to try and cool off.  She is about seven and half months pregnant but you'd never know it, besides that lump on her belly.  She had everything already to go for me and scurried around for anything else I needed.  My feet were getting shredded from my wet shoes and socks, so I made a change at this point too.  My feet and hands get pruney ridiculously fast, so I take extra precautions to keep them from getting too wet and taring off.  How fast? Like I can take a 10-minute shower and be totally pruned up—no joke.  Anyways, I saddled back up and felt somewhat refreshed as headed out for 4K of climbing and 18 miles to Jaws.

My stupid pruney feet

The shirt says it all.  I don't think she actually drank any of that Mountain Dew.

4:35 PM, Mile 30: Leaving Footbridge and chatting with my medical friend

Not too far into the climb, I can pinpoint my mistake in this race.  Only 3 miles after Footbridge there is already a small aid station.  I had only drank a little bit of my water, so I decided not to top my bottles off and just drink a cup at the aid station.  As I was about 50 yards out of the aid station I looked at the cool elevation tat on my arm and saw that it was almost 7 miles to the next chance to get water.  I almost turned around to go back and get more water, but who wants to back track even 50 yards in a 100-mile race?  I actually said out loud "I might regret this" and kept on moving forward.

Well, no big shocker, I ran out of water.  I did run out much earlier than I thought I would.  I hiked uphill for about an hour with nothing to drink, so in turn I didn't eat anything either.  It felt like a training run where I purposefully "bonk", and I actually kept on moving pretty well, but I could tell I was digging myself a hole.

As I got higher into the mountains the weather cooled and I felt better.  The scenery at the upper elevation of the Bighorns is stunning.  I was running blissfully through the meadows and and trees having a great time.  I even heard some elk bugling.  When I reached my pacers Nathan and Barb at the Jaws Aid Station I was psyched to keep running and head off into the night.  The medical staff asked if I'd been peeing before I left the aid station.  I lied and said "yes".  I knew I was dehydrated, and had been drinking hard to get back out of that hole I felt totally ready to rock at the moment so I was not worried about it.

Bighorn is an out and back course, so Nathan and I headed back down 4,000 feet to Footbridge.  I think I was in 7th or 8th place, and I was eager to hunt down the tired looking guys in front of me.  We started out great, chatting and having a great time.  I had run the first 50 miles basically alone all day so I was really glad to have company.  Finally, I had to pee.  I'm going to talk about peeing a lot now so if you aren't down with that you'd better skip ahead.  My pee looked like straight up Coca-Cola. Brown.  "Oh shit" I said.  "Yeah that's not good" said my doctor friend Nathan.  We kept moving and discussed if that was rhabdo, dehydration, or something else.  I drank as much water as I could and kept moving.  I started to have sharp pain in my bladder on every downhill (which was like, everything).  We would move along well until I couldn't take the bladder pain anymore, I would stop and try to pee, it would hurt like blazes, I'd get a little bit out and then we'd keep running.  We did this repeatedly until we got back to Footbridge, just before 1 am.

1 AM, Mile 66: Jenny masterfully navigating the Footbridge Aid Station

I had lost a lot of time with all the peeing.  It sucked.  When I got to the aid station I was pretty worked.  I talked briefly with the medical guy about my bladder, and he thought I had probably just irritated it when I was really dehydrated.  I seemed alright otherwise so it wasn't too big of a deal.  Jenny gave me some mac n' cheese, and I was about to get going.  I started to get light headed and really tired when the medical guy came and talked to me.  "You look a whole lot worse than you did three minutes ago" he said.  I couldn't lie about this one: I felt like crap.  I just wanted to go to sleep.  Jenny was awesome and tried to rally me with a motivational speech "I've been waiting here for you all night so you'd better get going".  The medical guy got ice cold and said, "I'm the chief medic, and you aren't going anywhere until you check out with me."  I've never seen my wife shut down like that!  We all had a good laugh about it after the race.  I took another 15-20 minutes until the medic approved me to go, which was probably a good thing, since I did feel a lot better after taking a break.  Still, the time lost was frustrating, especially since a couple guys passed me while I was sitting on my butt.

Dry Fork Ridge sunrise

Nathan and I trudged back up "The Wall" at a decent clip, and actually moved quite well in the darkness.  Med-School grads make great pacers; they can teach you all kinds of human body stuff!  Our headlamps dimmed and started to die just as the sun was coming up.  The birds started to chirp and there was light and life in the mountains again.  We passed one poor dude and another guy dropped at Dry Fork, so that left me in 8th place after my half hour hiatus at Footbridge.  We arrived at Dry Fork Ridge again, about mile 82, feeling much better and maybe even a little bit accomplished.

5:45AM, Mile 82: Nathan and I were maybe a little bit worked

 5:45 AM, Mile 82: Jenny probably being very patient with me at Dry Fork Ridge

The next section of the course was very important to me.  When I ran the Bighorn 50 a few years ago as my first ultra, I walked almost the entire last 15 miles.  Even all the downhills.  It was depressing and horrible, and I did not want that again.  So, Barb and I took off from Footbridge and moved along at a moderate pace.  Everything hurt, but I didn't care too much.  We tackled the steep Tongue River Canyon through the early morning heat and made it down to the infamous 5 mile dirt road to the finish.  I have to admit, I let my motivation slip away; a sub-22 hour finish was not realistic; 7th place was about 20 minutes ahead of me; 9th place was no where in sight.  I kind of stopped caring in my sleepiness and exhaustion.  It felt like formality just to finish.

Barb and I making our way back to Dayton

I went slow.  Very slow.  The sun was hot and bright.  I had forgotten to get my sunglasses back after the night section.  I wasn't very happy about it, but I just couldn't bring myself to move forward very quickly.  As Barb and I neared Dayton, I looked back and 9th place was right behind me.  "Oh shit!" I said, again, "This is what we call going to the well."  I took off running like a pronghorn being chased by a coyote.  I was convinced he was on my tail chasing me down.  I was tempted to look and find out, but decided just to use this crazy adrenaline surge and sprint to the finish.  I came into Scott Park in Dayton thrilled to see Jenny, Ella, my parents, and the rest of my crew.  I was so ready to be done and to lay down.  As it turns out, I ran a 6:40/mi (according to my Suunto Watch) to escape the guy in 9th place, but he never even gave me chase.  Oh well.  We had a good laugh about that one at the finish.

9:34 AM, Mile 100: So good to be done

Maybe even better just to lay down

My Uncle Don finished his first 50-miler in style as well later that day.  His daughter Tina came all the way out from Washington D.C. just to make sure he didn't hurt himself.  They did awesome and it was fun and inspiring to see him finish!

Don and Tina cruising the road

In the end, I finished in 22 hours and 34 minutes, which was good enough for 8th place overall and first in my age group.  I'm content with my time, but I know it could have been faster without the peeing issues.  Its tough to acclimate for heat in Wyoming during the spring, and I just wasn't ready for that much warmth.  Most of my long runs were in snow, not sunshine.  Oh well, I can't complain about a good day in the mountains.

Bighorn 100 Team

I would have been toast in this race without Jenny, Nathan, Barb, my parents Bob and Ginny, or Don and Tina's support.  I might not have made it to the start of the race without the guidance of my coach Ty Draney, or without the help of Courtney and Tom at Fremont Therapy, Sylvia and Gina and Ananda Yoga, and Jagoe Warren.  All of these people rock my world.

Rusty Spur Club (Sub-24 hour) induction ceremony: YEEEHAAAW!

Next up?  Summer Wind River Range mountain running, a second addition to the family, the start of the 2015-16 school year, and the Wasatch 100 in September.

Photo Credits: Bob Joyes

A Few Thoughts on Training

This grey and lovely May afternoon I finished up an 18-mile training run.  There were a few May flowers poking up from the 2-10" of snow that was on the ground, but at times I couldn't see them because the ice pellets that were blowing sideways stung my eyeballs so bad I ran with my lids closed.

It was a good run.

Typical May Wyoming snowstorm (photo credit: Evan Reimondo)

I'm at the tail end of a three week training cycle of high mileage running getting ready for Bighorn 100.  This is definitely a goal race for me, and after so many hours of running in sunshine, snow, rain, wind, etc. I've been reflecting on all my hours of training.  Training for ultramarathons is kind of stupidly simple (you run a lot), but also really complex.  Structuring training around work schedules, family commitments, working the right energy systems, getting in the required miles, adjusting to the weather, terrain, nutrition, etc.  Getting ready for a big goal race is no small task.

A little rock hopping up Indian ridge (photo credit: Evan Reimondo)

This spring I've done something dramatically different with my training: I hired a running coach.  I picked Ty Draney, an all-around badass and good guy that's placed in the top five at just about every major rocky mountain hundred miler.  He's also a high school teacher in Wyoming, so I figured he'd be a safe choice.  I wanted a coach because I was losing too many hours of sleep wondering if I was doing enough, or doing too little, or even doing the right things.  I was tired of being a head case, and missing training with stupid little injuries.  A little guidance was in order, and I am very grateful.

Getting our feet wet (photo credit: Evan Reimondo)

Typically I do most of my training on my own; its my time to just think, enjoy the mountains, and have a little solitude after hanging around with high schoolers all day.  Plus, its just easier to not work around someone else's schedule.  But, the last few weekends I have branched out and ran a little bit with the Lander Running Club again, as well as my compadres Evan and Mike.  Running with other people forces you to slow down to a talking pace, which leads to a more relaxed run.  Its been completely enjoyable to take my foot off of the gas a little bit and adventure with some other people.  Don't get me wrong: I'm still running intervals in the dark and rain at 5:30 in the morning, or slogging up muddy trails after school, and dodging cranky rattle snakes on Sunday afternoon on my own.  But, its been refreshing to spend some Saturday's adventuring with great people and I hope to do so more in the future.

Evening solo run in the mud: I basically waxed my legs getting the mud off.  It looks kind of nice.

The dudes on Fossil Hill

Motivation for running is rarely lacking for me.  I absolutely love spending time in the mountains, exercising, and I've always enjoyed preparing for competition.  The one thing that really gets me is being away from my family.  I usually do my high mileage running during the summer when I've got all the time in the world and I'm still around home a lot.  I've been training hard during the school year, which I knew would be a challenge.  On Tuesday this week I didn't feel right: I was tired, low on energy, and after 45 miles in the last three days I felt like I was just missing out on too much.  I skipped my scheduled workout and Jenny and I ran to the park while Ella rode her bike.  Am I going to make my weekly mileage goal now? Nope.  Any regrets?  None.

She's got the need for speed too

Someone probably much smarter than me once said "racing is the celebration of training".  I think that's probably true, and part of what makes competing so fun.  It takes a gross amount of hard work, total commitment, and what can only be described as love and support form all sorts of people to really train for an endurance event.  Sometimes things still don't go to plan, but its about the journey, not the destination, right?   To all of you out there who are training, or have trained, for an event that is near and dear to your heart: Great work!  To all of you out there who have in some way loved, cared for, or supported someone who had some sort of ridiculous goal to test their own physical and mental limits: Thank you!

Jenny, 5-week Ella, and my Mom crewing for me at the Bighorn 50 in 2012.

Misadventure

Lot's adventures end kind of rough, that's just how adventure sometimes goes, but the Desert Rats Double Marathon was utterly doomed from the start.

Let me explain.

It all started last weekend when we cleaned our truck.  Jenny ran the Desert Rats Marathon last year, and I embarrassingly admit that there was still some of that desert mud inside of our truck.  We scrubbed the inside and outside of that truck like we were getting it ready for surgery.

Skipping ahead to Thursday night, we celebrated starting the weekend early with a delicious salmon dinner.  I stuffed my face with fish, rice, vegetables, and grapefruit and strawberries for desert.  But, as I crawled into bed my stomach felt overly full, all twisted up, and was making weird gurgling sounds.  Ten minutes later I was in the bathroom throwing up.  I felt much better!  I figured I ate something a little weird, maybe it was the mold I thought I trimmed off the strawberries? 

I didn't feel better for long.  For the next six hours, I puked, a lot.  I'd crawl out of bed to my large mixing bowl on the floor and clutch onto it with all my might as somehow I filled it up again and again.  I tried with moderate success not to spill the bowl when my legs cramped mid-hurl.

Of course, Friday morning I felt awful.  I didn't want to eat anything, but Jenny and I both assumed we were still driving to Fruita for the race.  Jenny put in a strong WOTY performance packing up most of our stuff while I nibbled on oatmeal and watched The Muppets.  Yes, I love The Muppets.  My hope was that I'd rally from the little vomitfest fast and I'd still be able to get a good long run in the next day.    You might be thinking to yourself, "Well that was stupidly wishful thinking, Gabe".  You're right, but it gets worse.

Spoiler alert: I made it to the start

We started the 7ish hour drive to Fruita and the weather turned to crap pretty fast, as it often does driving in Wyoming.  Part of I-80 just re-opened after a 70 car pile up the day before, and we made our way to Colorado.  Jenny was graciously driving through the rain-snow mixture while I rested.  As we went through a narrow canyon, suddenly the wet road turned to slush.  Jenny lost control of the truck and we slid into the lane of the oncoming traffic.  Panicked, Jenny just barely got us back in our lane, narrowly missing out on a head-on collision,  But, we slid too far the other direction, and started to slide off the road.  We slid through the mud with the rocks of the canyon walls inches from my passenger window.  We started to turn sideways as we slid downhill and just when I thought we were going to roll, the truck stopped.  I was able to use four wheel drive to get us back up on the road and somehow we escaped without a scratch.  "Miracle" is not an overstatement.

Once we regained our composure, we rallied and drove through the rain down to Fruita.  There we met our good friends Scott and Lindsay, who were going to be running the 50K as their first ultra marathon.  They told us that the course was going to be re-routed because of overly muddy trails.  Ugh.  I tried to eat a little bit and get hydrated, but it was a battle I was still losing.  Eternally optimistic, I hoped that with a good nice rest I could still have a decent race.

Already miserable at merely mile 4 

The course had been re-routed from a gorgeous out and back course, to five 10.4 mile loops, with several miles on plain old dirt/mud roads that paralleled I-70.  Stoke level was not high, but I kept a smile on my face.  For the first two miles of the race, I felt fine.  By mile three, my stomach was in knots, energy levels were even lower than expected, and negative thoughts were already creeping into my head.  I thought to myself each loop isn't very long, just get one done and go from there.  While running along, I kept checking my GPS and the numbers confirmed what I was feeling: my form was going to crap, my cadence and pace were getting slower and slower.  I was really bummed when my watch said I was at mile 10 and I was no where near the end of lap one.  Apparently a bunch of runners did a "extra credit" loop and added an extra 4ish miles.

I've had some tough runs before, but this was different.  It just felt so pointless from the start, I knew I didn't really have it in me.  My lack of energy, stomach pain, zero desire to eat, and all-time low motivation left me deflated.  I debated quitting the entire time; it was the classic scenario of an angel on one shoulder, and a demon on the other.  As I finally approached end of lap one (all 15 miles of it), I decided I was going to keep going.  My daughter had been excited about this race for weeks, my friends were running, I just couldn't let them all down.  I met Jenny and Ella, and I quickly changed my mind.  The puke bug had bitten Ella too, and both of them were miserable.  Goal #1 in these events is always to have fun, and make sure everyone around me is having fun.  No one was having fun.  So, after shedding a few pathetic tears, for the first time ever, I quit.  But, the "fun" was just getting started.

Lindsay cruising

Jenny took me and Ella back to the hotel, and then she went back to the race to crew for Scott and Lindsay.  Rather than running, I spent the next two hours cleaning up vomit as Ella annihilated our hotel room.  This illness wasn't from overly ripe strawberries, Ella definitely had the bug too, and it was a nasty one.  We decided to head for home early before we were banned from that hotel forever.

Scott as joyful as ever

Ella slept sweetly for much of the drive home, only one small puking incident.  But then Jenny's stomach started going into knots too.  Going down a hill in Flaming Gorge Jenny ordered me to pull the truck over.  I maybe braked a little hard, and stirred up Ella's stomach.  Jenny hopped out and started heaving as Ella projectile vomited (I didn't know that really could happen) all the way to the front seat.  God only knows where all that puke came from.  I vainly tried to wipe it all up, but I'll admit I let Tayo lick a little bit of it up.  As I observed this whole fiasco, I had to quietly laugh a little at the utter ridiculousness of it all.

We rallied again, got clean clothes on, and soldiered on through a classic South Pass blizzard to home.

The Desert Rats Double Marathon was a misadventure; nothing really went according to plan and fun was limited.  However, I'm really thankful that we made home in one piece with spirits still intact.  It's not a cliche to say it could have been a lot worse.   And Scott and Lindsay crushed their first 50k's! (Update: Lindsay won the women's 50k race!)

However, I am pissed about the truck though, those puke stains aren't going to clean themselves... and I wasn't planning on cleaning it again for another year.

2015 Races and Events

If 2014 was a good year for me, 2015 is going to be a barnburner.

Here is a list of races and events that are keeping me up at night:

March 31 — Zion Traverse
April 18 — Desert Rats Double Marathon
May 23 — Moccasin Lake Challenge
June 19 — Bighorn 100
August 9 — Estimated arrival of a new addition to the family
September 11 — Wasatch 100

A couple other of events that I am planning, but don't have a concrete date yet are:

• Improved Wind River Peak FKT attempt
• Ascent of Gannett Peak
• Never before run route connecting Lander and Jackson, Wyoming, through the Wind River and Gros Ventre mountains.  It might be tough to fit this one in, but it is longstanding dream of mine.

So with all this exciting stuff, what are the priorities?  Family is always top priority, so adding a second child to the family is a big deal.  No big races for Jenny this year, instead, we get to share the challenge and excitement of parenthood.  I expect this to kick my ass more than anything else on the list.

Next priority?  I'm really taken with the one-hundred mile distance.  One of my biggest motivations for endurance running is that I get to see the most mountain terrain in the least amount of time.  One-hundred mile races are highly effective for this.  I also love the logistics, team aspect, and culture of the distance.  Some people run hundred mile races on their own, which is awesome, however I enjoy sharing it with my family, friends, crew, other racers, and volunteers.  With that being said, Bighorn 100 is a huge priority for me.  Its Wyoming's premier trail race and I want to represent my state well.  Plus, there is an element of redemption for this race; the Bighorn 50 in 2012 was my first ultra marathon race, and it was kind of a celiac induced disaster.  I'm looking forward to going back to this course and doing things right.

Keeping with the 100 mile theme, Wasatch 100 is a massive goal for me.  I've applied in the past with no luck, but this year I was more fortunate and I'm not taking that lightly.  The long climbs and high elevations suit me well and to say I am merely looking forward to the challenge would be an understatement.

Well, that's it, that is the 2015 plan.  There probably will be a few other shorter, local races squeezed in the schedule as well, but I'll have to see how it all shakes out.  Thanks for following along and for your support.  Happy trails in 2015, I'll see you out there.

A lot to learn: one month old daughter and first ultra race back in 2012