Bear 100 recap part 1

I've been home from my road trip to Utah for a week. Resting and processing the experience. It's time for a recap while the memories are fresh.

At 10:45 am on September 27, after 28 hours and 45 minutes time elapsed, and 75 miles, after some consultation with my crew and the aid station's captain, I quit the Bear 100 race. I had enough energy to make it to the next aid station, Gibson Basin, but I wasn't going to be able to beat the 12:45 pm cut-off time there, and since that aid station wasn't accessible to crews, I would be dependent on the race team for extraction. It seemed best to stop at Beaver Mountain.

By distance and time, that was my biggest effort ever. I'm partly disappointed, partly satisfied. Disappointed that I didn't finish, after a promising start, but satisfied that I kept going through season-long adversity to get to the starting line, and kept going through race day adversity to get to 75 miles. In the end, I wasn't in good enough form to finish. An essential piece of fitness was missing.

The race kicked off in an unexpected warm drizzle that continued through the initial climb to the Logan Peak aid station. We all appreciated how it suppressed the thick dust on very dry trails. I felt good on the climb and reached the 10.5 mile mark four minutes faster than in 2023. The first half of my descent to Leatham Hollow went really well, but then I developed intense and debilitating cramps in both my quadriceps about three miles from the bottom, and slowed to a crawl. I'm not exactly sure why I cramped up. Indeed, I was going faster than in 2023, and with less training. But also, the Logan Peak aid station had run out of their advertised Gnarly Fuel2o. I'm a very salty sweater, and had been drinking only water for a while when the cramps hit. My problem was probably a mix of high exertion and lack of electrolytes.

Ruthie, my crew chief for the race, patched me up in Leatham Hollow. I chugged a 20 ounce bottle of salty LMNT solution, and another 20 ounces of Scratch mix provided by the race. I limped out on super tight legs, hoping for the best. Two miles up the road, before the climb out of Blacksmith Fork Canyon, I went to the bank of the Blacksmith Fork River to cool my head and hands, and then got stuck with intense cramps while trying to get back on my feet. It was as comical as it was painful.

Things got slowly better on the way to Upper Richards Hollow, the Oktoberfest-themed aid station at 28 miles. I had half of a bratwurst with some sauerkraut, and a can of NA beer. When the aid station captain admitted to cutting the Gnarly, running low again, I gobbled up some extra pickles and potato chips before shuffling out, only a minute slower than my 2023 time. I was able to run most of the downhill on this leg, though not very fast.

I met Ruthie again at the Right Hand Fork aid station, mile 37, chugged two bottles of LMNT and some other electrolyte drink, ate some dates and watermelon, and enjoyed some loud reggae music. Right Hand Fork has a great vibe.

I lost 15 minutes, compared to 2023, getting to the Temple Fork aid station, mile 45. My legs were tightening up and I could feel some damage around my toes. I spent an extra 10 minutes at Temple Fork getting a loose toenail taped down by the medical team, slurping chicken broth, and eating waffle fries before heading out into the dark with my belt light and headlight. An aid station volunteer here told me that he was cutting the Gnarly mix not because they were running low, but because it was "too sweet". For his own taste!

I feel bad for harping on the aid station drink situation. Stuff happens. I simply should have covered myself by carrying drink powder like I did in 2023. Everything else about the Bear was impeccable.

The big climb to Tony Grove in the early part of the night went okay. About halfway up the densely overgrown single-track, I heard a woman's voice and the sound of something big crashing through brush. It was a cowgirl on a horse, with two dogs. She said she was driving cattle off the trail, and I thanked her for it. Shortly after, I met with a pair of runners from California and led them to the top of the climb before pulling away on the descent. I would later find that one of them was one of the last finishers of the event. Congratulations, Rajeev! Ruthie helped me through my gear change at Tony Grove, and helped me ingest miso broth, coffee, and pizza. I left the aid station 10 minutes behind my 2023 time.

The stretch to Franklin Basin was a tough slog. My legs were locking up again, and I couldn't run downhill at all. I arrived at Franklin Basin, mile 61, 25 minutes after my 2023 time. Ruthie patched me together, again, and after some discussion of my hydration and urination, I resorted to taking 800 mg of ibuprofen. More about that in the next recap. An hour later, I was able to wobble out of the aid station exit. Without Ruthie's crewing, I almost certainly would have given up there.

Leaving Franklin Basin alone at 4 a.m. was hard. I was running up against cut-off times then, and my legs were hurting. The good news was that all the adversity was in my head and legs. The overnight weather was beautiful. Calm and mild, not cold at all. The trail wound through some lovely stands of large, mature firs and spruce. I could see familiar constellations from clearings, and the first glow of dawn. Eventually, I became glad that I'd continued. I soon caught up another runner. Bruce Ames and I continued together until sunrise and our eventual arrival at the Logan River aid station, mile 69. There I had pancakes, sausage links, and instant coffee. The aid station staff were as happy to see the sun rise as we were; it's a cold corner of Logan Canyon.

After Franklin Basin, I could no longer move fast enough to finish. Getting as far as I could get before timing out became my new goal. Bruce and I made it to the high point above the Beaver Mountain aid station together, and then he broke off because he could still run downhill. At that point, my quads were screaming and the tendon at the bottom of my left shin was swollen and angry. The descent to the Beaver Mountain aid station was steep, rough, and hot. Frankly, it sucked. I'm sure I would have felt differently if I wasn't so hobbled. It wasn't a terrible trail. I run trails like that all the time at Lory and Horsetooth.

After signing some paperwork, Ruthie and I went to the Bear Lake finish line and saw the 30-hour finishers and podium awards while waiting on our drop bags. People who had been hiking for a while picked up their pace one last time when they reached the finishing chute. There were smiles, hugs, and some tears.

As I said at the top of this post, I was missing an essential piece of fitness when I started the race. What I lacked at the Bear 100 this year was fatigue resistance and muscular endurance. Although I began well, my pace degraded too quickly over time. In the past, like in 2021 and 2023, I've developed fatigue resistance with big mountain training blocks. 260 miles and 40,000+ feet D+ in a month, twice. This year, I was nursing various injuries and couldn't do nearly that much peak volume. On the positive side, my Achilles and knee did not hinder me at the Bear and feel fine now.

I intend to write more about this event. For now, I'll conclude with gratitude about the mild weather (it snowed a week later on the course!) and fall colors, many thanks to the race team and volunteers, who were numerous and super helpful, and, most of all to my crew. My aunt Jeannie hosted us for several nights before and after the race, a real treat. Ruthie crewed me for 30 hours at multiple aid stations, and said that she enjoyed it and would do this kind of thing again! Her support was key. I'm super lucky to have it. Thanks, everyone. I couldn't have got as far as I did without you all.