Race Recap - Brett’s Moab Red Hot Ultra 55K

Race Morning:  Race start was at 8am.  I was up at 5:30am with the coffee percolating, toast on the way, a banana already half gone, and my dog (Percy), waiting for me to take him outside for bathroom duties and a quick walk.  My race gear was already prepped from the evening before, and the nerves were just starting a slow simmer that would continue to gradually build through gun time.  A training partner, Dan, had come down to provide some moral support and pay witness to the carnage that lay ahead.  Only 2 weeks prior, Dan himself was in monstrous fitness and was going to be toeing the line with me.  But a stress fracture in his foot put an abrupt and heartbreaking end to that.  He was ready for it and I have no doubt that Dan would have crushed his first 55k.  But knowing Dan, the fire was only stoked more, and he will be back soon to do something special on the trails and in the mountains—he’s one to watch for.

We got to the start area where my nerves were continuing to build and the porta potties were calling me for one last rendezvous.  I did some light jogging and a few strides, as the MC gave final instructions.  There were about 200 runners in the 55k and we all corralled ourselves behind the start line as the clock ticked down it’s final minutes to the gun.

The gun went off and I quickly settled behind about a dozen other guys.  I was somewhat familiar with the entry list, and I knew there were at least 6 guys that were legit 50k racers, including 2 Adidas sponsored trail runners and 1 Nike sponsored trail runner.  My plan was to take a gel every 30 minutes, sodium/electrolyte capsules every hour, and water and electrolyte hydration regularly. My goal was to run under 4 hours and 40 minutes.  If things went my way, I might be able to pick guys off in the last 10 miles and finish top 6.  My racing “sweet spot” is at about the half marathon trail distance.  But moving up to the ultra-distance, success in 50k’s has been elusive for me.  It’s a puzzle I’m still figuring out.  And today I was running with both a hip flexor and hamstring injury that had been healing but was not 100%.

For these kinds of distances on the trails, you must think more in terms of hours, rather than miles.  You’re still aware of the distance you’ve covered and what remains, but 55 kilometers and 4300 feet of climbing on the trails hits a little differently than on the roads.  As I raced, I focused on staying relaxed and stuck to my fueling like a clock.  I only stopped at the aid stations to refill my hydration pack.  By about 16 miles into the race, I had finished the first big climb and descent, and my legs were starting to feel the fatigue.  And you know that little hamstring injury I mentioned before?  Well, it was starting to get angry at me, with the first signs of cramping coming on, not unexpectedly.

There was another climb through mile 24 and an aid station. The course had been primarily Jeep 4x4 dirt roads and slickrock to that point.  It was not a technical course by trail running standards.  But the slickrock is unforgiving and was taking it’s toll on my legs.  With cramping already starting, I was slowing down and needed to focus on regular hydration, and I did.  From the mile 24 aid station, it was going to be a mostly out-and-back section along a ridge, before looping back down for the final 4.5 miles.  Along the ridge, there was no trail, only slickrock and pink flagging.  At this point, the 50 milers, 55k’ers, and 33k’ers were essentially following the same route on this out and back.  However, at a point, the 55k and 33k racers break off and down for a little lollipop and then back into oncoming traffic. It was not marked as well as it could have, and should have been. At the split, I dropped down but lost the pink flagging, and lost my way.  At that point, there was absolutely no one in front of me or behind me.  So much for picking guys off in the last 10 miles.

I scrambled around, cursing under my breath for about 5 mins before I saw some 50 milers up above me on the ridge.  So, I worked my way back up to the ridge and asked them where the route goes.  One of them kindly let me know that it would continue on a BIG loop for the 50 milers, and that was NOT what I was supposed to do.  So, I backtracked about a half mile back to where the split was.  And this time, facing the other direction, I saw the flagging for the 55K lollipop route.  I probably added about 12-15 mins wandering around and added about a mile to my total—extra credit?  

It turns out, I was not the only one who lost time second-guessing themselves and trying to figure out which way to go in this area. They certainly could have marked this section better and I know exactly how.  But I’m moving on.

Now back on course, more fatigued, and deflated, I was starting to go to a negative place in my mind.  I lost positioning, time, distance, and energy.  What do you do when things don’t go your way and you are hurting physically and mentally?  

Remember that you prepared for this.

And I did.  I reminded myself that I knew this was a very real possibility and that in this possibility, I needed to be prepared for it mentally if it happened. Quite honestly, things started to NOT go my way earlier on in this race than I had hoped. But I CHOSE to be here, to be a part of this adventure, and to be a part of this experience.  I had planned and trained for it for months.  I busted my butt in training, pushed through hard days mentally, and tough times personally.  I had shared countless epic miles on the trails and challenging workouts with some of the best humans I know. These are people who aren’t just training partners, but some of the best of friends who believe in me, who show up for me, and inspire me to do the same for them. They are my brothers at arms.  And while they were not physically in the race this day, they were there helping and encouraging me, through all the miles we’ve shared previously.  Reminding me that I got this.

There was still a lot of racing to do, so I turned my focus back to nutrition, hydration, and doing everything I could to manage the fatigue and cramping that had taken hold in both legs. But I kept my head in the game, by extension, my body.  I was passing 33K’ers and occasionally I would pass a fellow 55K’er.  I wasn’t moving very fast at all, but fast enough to catch others who were falling apart more than me.   The final aid station was at about the 30-mile mark.  I took a little extra time here to gather myself, refill my hydration pack, and down some coca-cola.  That last 4.5 miles was long and I was ready to be done. But I was still mostly running, albeit slowly, with periodic hiking due to sudden bouts of “full-on” cramping on some of the climbs. I continued to gradually catch other runners and though I wanted to stop and walk, I didn’t.  With the last climb done, I was determined to run the last entire 2 miles all the way to the finish, with my dude, Dan, cheering me on and my dog, Percy, barking with excitement.

I finished.  It’s over. I’m exhausted. My right hammy and achilles are shot.  Where’s the beer?  Where’s the Fireball?  Oh, the enchiladas look good! Yes, I’ll have some of that, please.  Time to mingle with the other runners, share battle stories and sit down.

                        

Result: 8th Overall in 5:03:41; 34.69 miles and 4300+ feet of climbing based on my GPS watch, with an average pace of 8:45/mile.

https://ultrasignup.com/results_event.aspx?did=102919