Introduction – Basics of the Race
I recently
competed in my first Ultramarathon. It
started on Saturday, September 19th, at 4:00 in the morning, and
since there was no chance I would be finishing the race in less than 18 hours,
it would extend to Sunday the 20th as well. My first Ultramarathon was called the
Yellowstone-Teton 100. It started in
West Yellowstone, Montana, and travelled through parts of Wyoming and Idaho
before finishing in a small town called Tet onia near Drags, Idaho.
The race was
as beautiful and scenic as any could be.
The Tetons were in the background for most of the race, there were many
streams, ponds, mountains, and hills, and the race was generally just scenic
and picturesque. The elevation was at or
around 7,000 feet though, which is nothing to sneeze at, and added an
additional layer of complexity to my preparation and training.
Travelling to the Race and Race Accommodations
After much
contemplation about where and how to station my family for the three nights
that we would all be spending in the Yellowstone area, we decided that the most
practical solution would be to stay with family in Rexburg, Idaho, which is an
hour or less from not only the start and the finish of the race, but the
halfway point and anywhere along the way.
So even though we wouldn’t be as close to the start or the finish of the
race staying in Rexburg as we would have been if we rented a hotel room in
Yellowstone or stayed at the actual race-sponsored lodge, the benefit was the
neither I nor anyone coming to support me would have to travel more than an
hour to see me at any given point of the race – and often it was only 30-40
minutes to see me, as was the case with meeting me at the hallway point in Mesa
Falls.
After
staying the night in Rexburg, my parents met up with us on Friday. We all drove together up to check in to the
race and get my race packet. It was
really exciting and hard to believe that it was all finally really
happening. All the hotels and lodges in
West Yellowstone, MT, were outrageously expensive by the time I was officially
signed up and committed to doing this race.
Instead, Michelle and I spent the night in a KOA rental cabin a few
miles from the start of the race but still in West Yellowstone. We didn’t really know what to expect, none of
us had ever rented a cabin or camped at a KOA before, but I can honestly say it
was worth every penny and I will certainly use these again in the future. This saved us a lot of money and it was
genuinely really nice to spend the night in a small cabin. My parents went back to Rexburg with the boys
while Michelle and I stayed at our little KOA cabin and prepared mentally for
the super early morning wakeup and ensuing day of running that would be
arriving very shortly.
Race Morning (Saturday, 9/19)
My alarm
was set to go off at 2:45 am on Saturday, but I actually woke up on my own at around
2:00. I started getting all my things
together and make sure I wasn’t forgetting anything. I had laid out all of my nutrition,
hydration, lights and reflective gear, and many other things the night before,
so at these wee early morning hours it was simply a matter of gathering and
packing it all up. Michelle drove me to
the race start where I had to check in by 3:30 am, and to my surprise there was
some breakfast there. I crammed in some
more food into my stomach, made as many last minute adjustments on my
reflective vest, Camelback, and chest-mounted GoPro as I could, and then we all
lined up outside on the street at the starting line a few minutes before 4:00
am. There were about 30 of us in total
doing the 100-miler. It wasn’t by any
means a massive group, but it felt like just the right amount of us crazies
were out there – being 4:00 am and below freezing (25 degrees to be exact).
Starting the Race – 4:00 am
As the Race
Director counted down the last 10 seconds and then blasted the air horn,
everything was surreal: I was starting a 100 mile marathon, and yet I couldn’t
help ask myself ‘is this really happening?’ and ‘how did I get here?’ With a bright flashlight, a reflective vest
on, and a set of red blinking lights, I started the race. I found my stride at about a 10:30/mile pace. This felt very comfortable – like I could run
at this pace forever without getting tired and not ever running out of
breath. It wasn’t too fast and wasn’t
too slow. Within the first couple miles,
I grouped together with a guy in in his 50’s named Gene and another guy in his
40’s named Frank. They both had 10x more
experience than me doing ultramarathons and were a bit surprised that this was
my very first rodeo – and that I had chosen to jump up straight to the 100-mile
distance for my first ultra (an Ultramarathon is considered any race that is
longer than a regular marathon distance of 26.2 miles; there is a race
somewhere known as the ‘World’s shortest Ultramarathon that is 26.3 miles
long).
Miles 1-30
The three
of us stuck together for about the first 30 miles. We passed through 2 aid stations
together. Even though one of two us may
have spent a few extra seconds at an aid station or quickly using the
restrooms, we essentially just quickly regrouped and stuck together. The sun had risen, and it was evident that we
were no longer going to be able to all continue at the exact same pace. Frank basically powered on without doing much
walking – that I observed personally – and ended up taking second place overall
with a finishing time of around 22 hours.
I kept moving along, but I started to add in some considerable amount of
walking in between bouts of running.
Meanwhile, Gene really slowed down.
He basically just had to full-on rest at an aid station and I was bummed
to find out later by looking at the race results that he didn’t finish. Although starting around mile 25 or so I
started to walk significant lengths at a time, I was still progressing very
quickly. My walking pace was very brisk,
about 13 minute miles, and my average mile pace was still outstanding (around
11 minutes per mile).
Mile 40: My First Major ‘Low Point’
I
hit my first ‘low point’ around mile 40.
I was feeling pretty tired and the sun was at its hottest and
brightest. I didn’t have my hat yet
because I hadn’t touched bases with my family/support crew (they would be
waiting for me at the halfway point).
The first negative thoughts started creeping in my head. I wasn’t starting to think I wouldn’t be able
to finish or that I was doomed for, but my attitude and morale just really
nosedived. I started wondering how and
why I still had to be out here doing this for 60 more miles and who knows how many
more hours. I continues to march along
though, eating and hydrating as much as I could do while feeling good
physically, and fortunately for me once I got into the high 40 mile distance my
attitude starting to lift a little. I
was really excited to see my family and support crew that would be waiting for
me at the halfway point and I knew I would be able to get my hat, shed some
more layers, and refill on all my sports drink and foods.
Halfway Point (Actually Mile 51) – Just
Under 9 Hours
As
my GPS watch beeped and vibrated, alerting me that I had just completed my 50th
mile, there was no aid station or spectators in sight. It turn out the ‘halfway point’ aid station
was actually located at 51 miles – close enough. At least I was over halfway done when I got
there and met up with my family. It was
great to hear people cheering and shouting out words of encouragement and
telling me that I was still looking good.
This was enough to really lift my spirits and re-energize me. I was able to get about 10 miles or running
out of this burst of energy and positivity.
Not only was it great to see my parents, wife, oldest son,
sister-in-law, and other spectators, but it gave me a tremendous boost and
allowed me to run a large chunk of the remaining miles.
I
traded my bandana for a hat – thanks heavens! – as the sun was truly reaching a
searing, energy-sapping strength and position in the sky. I got my hydration refilled (water in my Camelback
and more PowerAde in my handheld water bottle).
It was fun to take pictures with everyone and record some videos, but I
had to make sure I didn’t take too long of a break or I would risk my muscles
cooling off and my legs tightening up.
Furthermore, the clock never stops!
I could have stopped for as long as I wanted and even taken a nap if I
felt like it, but my goal was to finish in under 24 hours and I had a feeling
that every second could count as I eventually got close to the finishing
line.
Miles 70 – 95: Uncharted Territory
and Reaching My All-Time Low
After
the halfway point, I was able to mix a healthy amount of running and walking
into my routine and maintain a great average mile pace all the way up to mile
70. My average pace was still under 12
minutes per mile when I hit mile 60, which was as far as I had ever run in
training. So everything after mile 60
was uncharted territory for me in terms of distance covered and time on my
feet. I was no doubt slowing down – my ‘running
pace’ and my ‘walking pace’ were both getting slower. Nevertheless, when I got to mile 70 and
checked into the aid station, I was in third place overall and my per-mile pace
was about 12:30.
Probably
the coolest thing that happened around this stage of the race was that a dog
from someone’s farm that the course went by ran out onto the road and started
to run alongside me. I was pretty sure
it would turn around when I got to the end of the farm’s property line, but no,
it stayed with me. After running along
with the dog for a few miles and a large turn in the road came that changed the
direction I was travelling, I was sure the dog would sense the need to return
home, but nope! The dog ended up staying
with for about 10 miles until I reached the aid station at mile 70. The volunteers at the aid station called the
number on the dog’s collar to let them know their dog was presumably really far
away from home. When I checked out of
the aid station and started going again, the dog still stayed with me. It would ultimately stay with me for about 3
hours, or 15 miles, before we helped grab the dog by its collar and drag it to
its owner’s truck that eventually came for it.
The owner said he wouldn’t have been able to get the dog on his own and
that the dog would probably have stayed with me for the remainder of the entire
race if we hadn’t help grab it for the owner!
It was at
mile 70 that my family/support crew dropped off my wife’s cousin, Jeff, to be
my ‘pacer’ and stay with me until I got to the finish line. This was a huge boost. I had been alone since mile 30, which was
many hours ago, having only my thoughts and the miles to count down. Now that Jeff was with me, I had someone to
talk to and someone to encourage me.
Despite getting my pacer at this stage of the race, I no doubt sunk into
the lowest low mentally that I have ever been in at any point of any endurance
event I’ve competed in – including when I had hypothermia after the 2.4 mile
swim at my most recent Ironman and it took me an hour to transition from
swimming to biking (this also happens to be the only time I have ever thought I
might have to drop out of a race and be stuck with the dreaded ‘DNF’). In contrast to that race, I had no doubt I
would be able to finish this 100-mile Ultramarathon, and that unless something
terrible happened I would almost certainly cross the finish line before my
desired goal of 24 hours. It wasn’t
doubt that I might not be able to continue that was bringing me down mentally,
it was the sheer amount of miles I still had to go despite already having come
so incredibly far already. I was simply
exhausted. It hurt to run, and my most
brisk walking pace had gone from 13 minutes at the beginning of the race to 16
minutes. I had to deliberately make a
very strong effort just to walk at a 15 minute mile pace, and it was by no
means ‘comfortable’ to walk at this pace.
Every muscle in my body was sore, including muscles I didn’t even know
existed such as on the bottoms of my feet.
So like I was saying, I wasn’t worried that I might not finish – the cutoff
time for the 100-milers was a very generous 34 hours and I was still on track
to meet my goal – but I could no longer maintain any type of happy or positive
attitude. Simply put, I was
miserable. I just wanted it to be over
so badly, and yet I still had over a marathon left to go. What seemed to make everything worse and
compound my bad attitude and low morale was that my best and most brisk walking
pace was slowing down. This just added
insult to injury.
There was
no way to mentally trick myself into feeling better about things, I just had to
confront the daunting unflinching reality that despite having gone many miles
and been racing for many hours, I would still be on my feet for a very long
time. There was no away around the cold
hard truth. So I just kept putting one
foot in front of the other – and complained a lot to Jeff about how tired I was
and how I just wanted this to be all over.
Jeff did such a great job of letting me vent to him and staying
positive. I can only imagine how much
worse my mindset might have been and how much slower I might have been moving
had I not had someone to talk to and keep me moving for those last 30
miles.
Mile 95: Finally, a Sense of Relief
I thought
that I would get some type of adrenaline rush or at least a huge sense of relief
when I reached mile 90, but surprisingly passing this milestone did nothing for
me and I was still psychologically a train wreck. Fortunately, there was a rational part of my
brain that was still working that kept me moving along, knowing that the end
was indeed nearing. It wasn’t until mile
95 that the sense of relief and the burden lifting from my shoulders starting
to sink in. I could finally let my mind
believe that it was truly almost over and that I could lower my defenses – it would
no more than an hour at the most until I was surrounded by friends and family
with a finisher’s medal around my neck and on my way to eating Chicken Mcnuggets
and French Fries and a chocolate milkshake.
I had been too afraid to let my defenses down and let myself believe
this was almost going to be over until I was at mile 95, but once I was there,
my attitude finally snapped out of its slump and I was once again excited about
being in a 100-mile race.
Finishing in Under 23 Hours? What…huh?
After doing
some math, it was clear that I would have no problem reaching my goal of
crossing the finish line in under 24 hours.
To my surprise, even with the dramatic rate I had been slowing down for
the last few hours, we realized that I had a very real shot at finishing in
under 23 hours. I didn’t know if this
mattered to me. For months I had been
training with the goal of 24 hours at the front of my mind, so this new
possible finishing time of 23 hours just sort seemed strange and I couldn’t
really decide if it mattered to me or would be worth pushing myself just enough
to see my finishing time say “22 hours and something minutes” instead of just
being under 24 hours. The relief that
was setting in gave me enough of a boost to decide to go for it. It was not a given that I would reach this
new goal, but it was absolutely reachable if I could muster enough strength and
discipline to make myself go the last 4 miles in less than an hour. It all came down to this: one hour, 4
miles.
I tried to
get as much out of each stride as I could, and my per-mile pace hovered just
under 15 minutes. This is exactly what I
needed, plus a way to shave off at least one minute at the very end of the race. I was hoping and counting on being able to
run the last half or at least quarter mile and cross the finish line moving at
a respectable pace. Assuming I could
maintain the last 4 miles at or just barely below 15 minutes per mile, then
crossing the finish line while running would shave off at least a minute and
get me in under 23 hours…I hoped. I kept
up my long strides, and the miles ticked off one by one: 3 miles left; 2 miles
left; 1 MILE LEFT!!! My brain could
barely comprehend this. I was 99% done
with this beast of a race, the end was both literally and figuratively finally
in sight. With about a half mile left,
we started running, but this turn out to be a little too soon to be burning the
absolute final last fumes of gas I had in the tank. After running a tenth of a mile and realizing
it would not be sustainable to finish the race like this, we started walking
again.
The End
With a
quarter of a mile left, I turned the afterburners back on this time it was not
too soon. The cheers from my 3 year old
son and wife and parents and everyone else at the finish line were enough to
carry me across the finish line. With
just one or two tenths of a mile left to go, and about 5 minutes left to reach
my new goal of finishing in under 23 hours, my mind could finally let go of all
its defenses and simply embrace the joy of crossing the 100-mile marking finish
line.
My finish
time was 22 hours and 56 minutes.
According to my GPS, I ran 100.3 miles.
Having only added .3 miles to the overall course of the race between all
the aid stations, detours into portapotties, and from my efforts to avoid
obstacles such as rocks and animal poop on the trails/roads is something I
could live with. It is not uncommon for
runners to add a mile or even more if they make any type of slight wrong
turn. I wanted to be finishing the race
as close to when my GPS watch indicated I had travelled 100 miles as possible,
and in my book, 100.3 miles ain’t half bad.
What did
come as a surprise though was that my time of just barely under 23 hours was
good enough to earn me fourth place overall and third place overall in the men’s
division. I had a feeling that I might
be doing well enough to place in my age division, but earning third overall in
the men’s division was icing on top of the cake. I walked away with a cool ‘Third Place Men’s
Division’ framed painted ceramic of the Tetons in addition to my 100-miler
finisher’s medal and belt buckle.
Miscellaneous Leftover Notes,
Valuable Lessons Learned, and Concluding Thoughts
● Tummy Problems – to my great
surprise and relief, I never had to pull off the road/trail and let some
explosive diarrhea go in the woods. I
had packed a good supply of baby wipes and hand sanitizer for just this reason,
but fortunately I my stomach felt fine for the vast majority of the 100
miles. The only time I could sense some
choppy waters on the horizon I was only a couples out from an aid station and
made it comfortably to a portapotty before things got dangerous.
● Portable USB Charger – I was able
to record, without interruption, the entire 100-mile race with my Garmin 910
GPS watch. I recharged it one time with
a portable USB charger I bought from Walmart for only $7. I was pleasantly surprised that I did not
need a more expensive portable battery charger to get plenty of additional life
added to my GPS watch. Furthermore, I
can verify that when you plug in the battery recharger to the watch it does not
stop recording or tracking you and your data, even though it no longer displays
your data but rather shows the ‘charging’ screen.
● Camelbacks are not intended for
long distance running! I have a pretty
nice, 100 oz. Camelback that has served me very well over the years primarily on
long bike rides in my training for Triathlons and to a lesser extent on
runs. However, after wearing it for the
duration of the YT-100, my lower back was absolutely shredded raw. The rubbing of the pack, even on top of my (at
times) multiple layers of clothing still really did a number on my lower back
over the course of so many miles and hours.
As you probably already know, if you are an Ultra marathoner, the ‘Ultimate
Direction’ style packs with water bottle holders on the front and that rest
primarily on your shoulders and upper back are much better suited for Ultramarathons. Lesson learned!
