www.greysaltlake.com- Wasatch 100, 2009

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Wasatch 100 2009 – The Heat is On

Tale of the Trail Snail

A week has passed since the 2009 Wasatch 100 and I think my bones are slowly forgiving me. It was my third bout with the beast, and I dare say it was my toughest encounter yet. Tough not in distance, or in mental fortitude, but tough in the climatic conditions- it was baking.

I always find the passing of the W100 a little saddening- the end of another summer gone. My training over the past summer was far from optimal- too much time spent sewing and preparing for grad school-- too little time on the trails. I woke up early the night before the race was nearly crushed by the idea of running one hundred miles- luckily it was sleep induced trauma and when I woke later, I was gearing to go. A myriad of bad decisions left me reaching the starting line with only 20 seconds til start- no time to stretch or wedge my way towards the front. So instead I spent the first five miles doing my best to bump around slower runners and try not to be bumped myself.

I wasn't feeling stellar- mostly because I didn't feel mentally prepared (I was in class all day Thursday 'til 9pm), but I still made decent time up Chinscraper and made up some time on the descent down to Francis. I was already a half hour behind my time from last year, but I didn't let it get me down and set out south, happy the crowds had dissipated with the morning sun. Donuts at Bountiful B were a treat, and so was a nice sit-down rest atop the Sessions climb with a runner whose name I forget. The popsicles at Swallow Rocks cooled me off a bit, but as I left Big Mountain six miles further I could really feel the heat. Despite my best efforts, I knew I was incredibly dehydrated and my body was refusing to process liquids. I tried taking it easy, but just off the summit of Bald Mountain the barf-squad overtook and sent me into a fury of quease. With my stomach on reset I was able to fire the downhill to Alexander and hide in the shade while soaking in the fluids at the aid. Things were looking up and I headed into the “oven” with decent time into Lambs. I was thrilled to see Heather waiting and Brian was a great help. Having knocked over 50 miles I felt a lot better- but knew the race was only just beginning.

I jogged into the shade of Lambs Canyon, and to assure my future cool-ness, I stopped at the bridge and had a brief sit in the creek. It made all the difference. I was able to remove 1:15hr off my previous times on this leg, and beat my crew to the aid station. The Graveyard (Millcreek aid) seemed strangely warm and I was excited to pick up my one and only pacer- Hunter. He arrived and was ready to deliver me from destruction. Twelve miles and one puiking session later we arrived at Brighton, a little worse for wear. The Wasatch Crest section had been amazing- with a waning crescent moon ominously guarding the eastern sky warily lighting the airy trail.

The last 25 miles is an odd race unto itself. It is perhaps the most brutal section of the course with precipitous downhills, and cranky ups. We met our friend Ryan atop Catherine's Pass and he wasn't feeling well. We hung relatively close until Ant Knolls where we got a bit of a head start. We were elated to find that our timing had delivered us sausages again at Poleline Pass- my savior on W100 #1. Once again they proved to be a divine gift, helping to crank the last 18 miles. Ryan experienced the same saving-sausages and was able to regain his Herculean strength and retake a lost hour. I had long since abandoned my goal of sub-28 hours, and instead reconciled my psyche to accept a sub-30 hour time- but even that was looking dubious. Just past Rock Springs Hunter once again turned on his ever-supportive charm and spurred me onward. A final, minor puiking session (on film) later left us through the trauma of “the plunge' and the “seven hills of torture” (or whatever they are called), through Pot Bottom and onto the final descent. We had made up some serious time and we were now gunning for a sub-29 time. Licking 15 minutes off my old time from Pot Bottom we powered through the finish line at 29:01. I couldn't have been more happy to be done, but could barely remember much of the race. A good friend Jon was there to greet me and snap a few pics. John and Mary Ann arrived minutes later and so did Heather with a big smile and a bag of treats. Brian wasn't far behind.

Overall it was a great race. The first 52 miles were tough, hot, and nearly traumatic. Once into Lamb's (and my veritable backyard) it was a far different story and a different race. I can't give enough praise and thanks to Heather and Hunter- Heather for driving around the mountains all night, lending critical support; Hunter for running around the mountains all night with unending optimism despite his own pains. Another mile would have been difficult without them. Also my fantastic friend and family for their support at both aid stations and the finish line- you are all incredibly generous for you support. And of course I thank the aid station crews- I never cease to be amazed at how kind these strangers can be.

Best wishes,

Arie

#198

Drop bag sorting on Thursday night at Sugarhouse Park.

Pre-race meeting, with a discussion on how to get lost if you forget to properly DNF.

Anxious but stoked to run- I thought I had ten minutes to the start… but in reality there was only four.

The last few steps into Lambs Canyon- mile 52. The heat is finally over.

Upper Big Water Aid, mile 62- feeling much better after a sit in Lamb’s Creek and a fast hike into Millcreek.

Hunter ready to roll some rocks.

My wonderful friends and family that boldly negotiated a broken water main construction zone to come for support.

Still smiling at mile 75- Brighton. Heather providing here unending support.

Hunter and me cranking that last few feet. Photo courtesy Jon Baxter- thanks man!

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