Sometimes I like to surprise people and sometimes those people happen to include me, myself and I. Look, Wyoming winters can be long and sometimes a person might be driven to do crazy things, you know, like register for a 50k that boasts the title of “toughest in the U.S.” Woops!
My elevation profile from Strava
The Speedgoat 50k was held on July 25th and is organized by ultrarunner extraordinaire, Karl Meltzer. It consists of 11,900 feet of climbing and around 11,200 feet of descent in the rugged Wasatch Mountains near Snowbird Ski Resort in Utah. How does one fit that kind of elevation change into 32 miles? With a lot of grueling straight up and quad-destroying straight down, that’s how. Nice work, Karl. Not a lot of folks can claim to have driven so many calm, collected people to curse out loud.
In other words – the Speedgoat course is exactly the opposite of what I would have in the past described with words like fun, satisfying, or desirable.
But like I said, sometimes I surprise myself.
When I registered for Speedgoat, I was in the process of looking for a 50 mile race as a tune-up for my goal race, the Pine to Palm 100, which is in Oregon on September 12th. My initial thought was that I should definitely do something longer than a 50k, but as I looked over past results and the course elevation profile it occurred to me that this is no ordinary 32 miles. Finishing times for this guy are more akin to what a typical 50 miler might have and with that much up and down combined with how I typically avoid that sort of thing in a race, it was sure to be excellent training in the art of suffering for me. And since I expect I’ll be dealing with a lot of suffering in the 24ish hours between September 12th and 13th, I was sold. Along with the “guaranteed to suffer” bonus, I had also conned my girlfriend, Sara Hooker into registering with me (thanks, Sara!!), so obviously everything was gonna be just fine.
Race Day!
Come race week, Sara called me to say she’d been taken out with a nasty respiratory illness and was no longer able to make the race. Nooo! Bummed and maybe a little more nervous at the thought of staring up from the starting line of this baby by myself, I resolved to tell myself “it’s no big deal, this is just a training event. Think of it as a long, beautiful (painful, life-hating) day in the mountains and don’t worry about competing, at least for the first bit.” Also, I decided that I’d prepare my mind for the worst and assume that none of the course was going to be runnable and that I’d be scrambling and power hiking all day. That way, I’d feel lucky whenever I was able to run. Eh? See what I did there? Mind tricks. Ultrarunners learn to get good at these games…or at least this one does.
Evan ended up traveling down with me and planned to actively spectate the race from at least three of the uppermost aid stations, which gave me a bit of comfort. It’s amazing what familiar faces can do when you find yourself lost in the pain cave.
As I stood at the starting line, I ran into fellow Landerite and good friend Tavis Eddy, who was about to start his third (I hope I’m not messing that up) Speedgoat and he introduced me to another incredible runner, Becky Wheeler. I recognized her immediately as “the badass woman with pigtails who blazed past me” on a long uphill in the El Vaquero 50k when I was running half that distance as a “comeback” from a ruptured appendix back in 2013. Strong ladies always manage to leave a mark in my memory, even if I never see their face or learn their name. I love being inspired.
The race started a few minutes past 6:30am. Becky and I started toward the front of the hoard and it gave me goosebumps to look back from a few switchbacks up and see the long human caterpillar winding up the mountain behind us. The course starts with a long climb, first up a moderate, switchbacking dirt road, then on single track, then back onto what could have only been a snowcat path, because it was steep and rocky as a m-effer. I just concentrated on power hiking.
It was 8.5 miles to the first aid station at Hidden Peak, and as we were heading up the first climb, I told Becky – probably more as a way of telling myself – that I planned to take the first 9 miles conservatively and then reassess how I felt from there. This turned out to be an excellent plan. I focused on running the more mellow slopes and power hiking the steeps (something I am very much still working on and Becky is a crusher at) and reached the Hidden Peak aid station – and Evan – in 2 hours and 10 minutes. Evan told me I was around 13th lady – which surprised me, considering the caliber of women who typically run this race. I moved through the aid fast, Evan filled my bottles and re-briefed me on the miles ahead as I chugged a cup of Coke, stuffed a few swedish fish and a piece of watermelon in my mouth and went on my way.
From Hidden Peak, it’s a cruisey beautiful downhill run through nearly chest-high wildflowers and then dusty, slippery, steep and rocky trail to the Mineral Basin aid station around mile 11. I only almost fell once. I moved right through here since I’d just resupplied not fifteen minutes ago. A creek crossing and another short, but steep climb later brought me to the top of the last climb before the turn-around at Pacific Mine, which was just six, steep downhill, rocky, creekbed/4-wheel drive road miles away. This was the next time I surprised myself.
Technical downhill has to this point not been my strong suit. I sprained my ankle badly running fast down a trail in 2012 and I’ve been a pansy about bombing downhills ever since. But lately, at Evan’s prodding, I’ve also been practicing it a lot. I’ve been working on quick feet, hinging forward at the hips and being in a more athletic stance to relieve stress on the low-back and knees and focusing on nothing else but where the next foot placement is as I’m already mid-air and going for it. I found that I easily passed one lady and four guys while running comfortably. That felt good!
I was in and out of the Pacific Mine aid station in about 60 seconds, thanks to the volunteers who were on their game. They filled my two half-liter bottles and had them back to me by the time I’d drank my cup of Coke and taken a popsicle for the road. There was a mile of flat running for which to finish my pink Otter Pop before the long, loose-footed, toasty five-mile climb back to Mineral Basin aid station at mile 20 (take note of that mileage ;)).
Leaving Mineral Basin, my spirits were lifted with more Coke and news from a volunteer that the mileage at that point was greater than I’d thought it was. But in case I dared to think the climbing I’d done to that point was hard, little did I know, I was heading for what was decidedly the hardest two climbs of the day. The first of which was up the side of Mineral Basin and straight up the backside of Mt Baldy at 11,000 ft. The last bit of the climb to the summit of Mt Baldy was roughly 1,000ft of vertical over less than a mile, it was off trail and moving up consisted mostly of going for clumps of grass for footing with my hands out in front of me, either on the ground or just above it ready to help push me up the next step. I maintained the goal of one step at a time, don’t stop, “you’ll be to the top before you know it.” And then I was!
When I crested the top I was SO RELIEVED. I hadn’t entirely committed the aid stations and their mileage to memory, but I could see Hidden Peak, the final aid station before the five-ish mile descent to the finish only about a mile away along the ridge! Evan was there too and cheering me on. As I ran up to him he asked how I felt, I could only think to respond by pointing back at the backside of Mt Baldy and saying “that was probably the closest thing to my worst nightmare.” But that was all okay now, because I was done climbing for the day and the finish was only about 6 miles away. That’s when Evan said, Tunnels Aid station is just right up here. I said, “Huh? Why would they have two aid stations so close to one another?” And that’s when reality struck. Evan said, “well technically, they’re close for me, but not that close together for you, you have to go back down the other side and back up again, sorry about it.” On top of that, I also learned that while a volunteer at Mineral Basin had insisted that station had been at mile 23.4, I was actually only just now at mile 23.4!
Bad news all around.
But that’s life sometimes, eh? So I resolved to just forget about it, think positively and go with the flow- if I know one thing about ultrarunning it’s that a shitty attitude has serious effects and those effects are never good. Onward to the next point.
Summiting the final climb to Hidden Peak at mile 27! Photo Cred: Evan Reimondo
I went through Tunnels aid station quickly with a kind gentleman pouring an entire pitcher of ice water down the back of my shirt (complete with sizable ice chunks that hung out in the back of my bra for the next 15 minutes. Thank GOD) and headed through the tunnel and down, down for another mile or more, climbed up a sun-exposed, but sweet, narrow ridge–the second hardest climb of the day in my opinion–met a nice girl named Lydia Gaylord who’d been in front of me all day, and finally reached Hidden Peak, mile 27 and the last aid station before the finish!
Even though I was through the aid station pretty quickly, another woman caught up and ran right through the aid station without stopping. Crap. So I booked it out of there with Evan yelling behind me that “this is where it’s down to the wire!!” I was at least 150 yards behind her and prayed that my newfound downhill running skills could help me catch her. Thankfully, that panned out for me. I was moving well over the metallic sound of the packed scree trail and passed her before we were back below tree-line and I ended up with a couple of men I’d been going back and forth with all day. We maneuvered another steep, off-trail downhill and up three more short, steep climbs that are additions to the formerly all downhill final miles of the course.
Before long we were back on the course we’d come up that morning and for the first time all day I found myself cursing the fact that we were only on gently sloped single track. It seemed to be endlessly switchbacking across the slope, making the finish line so close, but so far away!
I came back up on another new friend, Patrick, who’d done the last bit of climbing with me. Then the single-track opened up to dirt road for the last 150 yards or so and I took that opportunity to step on the gas and pass three guys before crossing the finish line where Karl Meltzer had both of his hands up saying “whoa, whoa, whoa” and handed me a handful of finisher’s schwag (a Black Diamond Speedgoat hat, Drymax Speedgoat socks and a creative finisher’s medal shaped like a goat), a volunteer handed me an Ultraspire handbottle filled with iced recovery drink and Evan was there with a smile and a sweaty hug. I have to admit, having a kick at the end of that race felt a little absurd, I shouldn’t have had anything in the tank, but if it happens, I suppose it’s good to dump it.
It was only after the race, when Evan was looking at the live results, that we realized my next surprise of the day. I’d finished 11th woman! And – painfully – only missed tenth place by 10 seconds. I hadn’t even seen the next woman in front of me thanks to the thick forest and I had clearly been closing on her quickly because I hadn’t seen her all day. Damn. But 11th place in a race that was way out of my comfort zone and that draws so many tough women? I can live with that.
I want to thank Karl Meltzer and his team of stellar volunteers for putting on such an awesome, well-run event! (After Saturday, I think I’d even call Speedgoat “fun,” even if it’s Type 2 fun, and I might even do it again next year! Wait, did I just write that out loud?) The race volunteers were out of this world and so helpful. Many thanks to Evan for dealing with my pre-race, anxiety-filled, sleepless night and running around all day to cheer me on and keep the friends and family updated! I also want to say thank you to my lovely, supportive friends and family who filled my Facebook feed and phone with cheers and encouraging words. I loved reading through them that night. You have no idea how much that meant to me 🙂 Y’all are just the best.
It’s now Thursday after the race and my soreness has been gone for a day already. I got in a four-ish mile hike on Sunday, took Monday off, aqua-jogged on Tuesday and ran five easy miles around town yesterday. The quads and right knee still feel a little weird, but I don’t think in any sort of bad way. This week is focused on recovery, icing the knee and taking ibuprofen as needed. I’ll ramp up the mileage again next week!
Onward to Pine to Palm!
Feeling stoked on a great race and enjoying my salt-covered Sea Level Sucks cotton/poly t-shirt.
today was an adventure. 
Bad ass!
What a great post! Thanks for calling me a badass! That boosts my confidence! You have a great future ahead of you!
Becky, thank you! And, for the record, I’m definitely not the only one who’s ever called you that. 🙂