A DNF race report on the Bighorn 100, June 18-19, 2010.
Race reports are generally fun to write……you can pretend people are actually interested in your event and performance, and you can kind of relive the event, and revel in the completion. DNF reports are not fun at all, either in the writing or, most definitely, in the reliving.
The previous post in this blog, titled “Skeert,” provides some info on the race. Generally, it is an out and back course with elevations ranging from around 4,000 feet to 9,000 feet. The course contains three major climbs and descents, with the initial climb occurring in the first eight miles. The second major climb is a long grind from miles 30 to 48, with the last climb–appropriately labeled “the Wall”–at about the 66 mile mark. Temperatures range from warm in the canyons (typically 80+ degrees) to sub freezing on the nighttime ascent.
The “Bighorn Wild and Scenic Trail Runs” actually consist of a series of races ranging from 30k to 100 miles. All events except the 100 are held on Saturday and all end in more or less the same window of time (late afternoon to evening) at the very nice Scott Park in Dayton, WY.
The 50-mile course profile is displayed below. From this diagram, the 100 is run from right to left, then back…..in other words, from “Finish” to “Start” and back.
Course elevation chart
The 100 begins on Friday morning at 11 AM along the Tongue River, following a 9 AM course briefing in Scott Park. This timing, along with the difficult course pretty much ensures everyone, including the elites, will run though the night. While the area had seen rain regularly in the two weeks leading up to the race, race morning was gorgeous. The temperatures promised to be warm during the day, dropping substantially at night.
Awaiting the race start on a lovely morning in Wyoming
I’m not particularly well suited to a course like Bighorn. I’m a flatlander, and seldom run at elevation. As can be seen above, the course generally runs between the elevations of 4,000 to 9,000 feet. Further, there are few hills in northwest Missouri with the size and grade that Bighorn provides. Finally, I’m not a particularly good trail runner, although the pace I was planning did not make this a major disadvantage.
As with virtually all events of this type, there are interim cutoff times at various points on the course. Those at Bighorn seemed fairly generous, including the 34 hour finishing time. However, I had reviewed the prior year splits of runners who had finished in the 32-34 hour range, which was my rather loose goal. All had been hours ahead of the official cutoffs through at least the first half of the race. Based on this, I’d developed my own “practical” cutoffs.
As noted above, my view of the course is that there are three major climbs. The first is about 3,300 feet over about 7.5 miles. This doesn’t look too severe on the map, but it was a struggle for me. Hell, I didn’t really expect to have to literally stop to catch my breath so early in the event. I was way at the back of the pack and amazed how everyone else seemed to move quickly up the incline. The difficulty of this section reinforced the concerns I had going into the event. However, somewhere late in the climb I fell in next to Dave Westlake, a multi-year finisher. He was also shooting for a 32 hour finish, and assured me we were right on pace. After cresting the top of this first “up” section, I was actually feeling better–both physically and mentally.
The view from my rightful place at the back of the pack.
I really love this part of the country and the Bighorn course is beautiful. A couple of pictures from the early miles…..
Bighorn scenery.
Wildflowers along the trail.
Dry Fork Ridge was the first major checkpoint. With a cutoff of 5 hours, I’d set a goal of 3.5 hours and hit it in 3:54. Acceptable, plus running with a veteran like Dave gave me some confidence in the pace. My drop bag contained grapes as my food of choice. Keeping my stomach functioning is typically a real battle over longer events, and fruit is something that (almost) always looks good. Hit the aid station, had some grapes, some 7-Up, a small amount of “real” food, and politely declined the offered avocado, something unappealing at the best of times. I was feeling upbeat as the next section contained rolling, gentle downhills.
The trail quality in the first half of this event would probably be considered to go from good to bad to worse. I was definitely in the “good’ section, as it was dry and clear. What can be a bit misleading is that the the jeep roads, which one would think would be easily runnable, are actually quite rutted, and there is little in the way of level footing.
Easy footing, yes? Maybe, maybe not.
The next major checkpoint was Footbridge, at mile 30. Between Dry Fork (13.4 miles) and Footbridge the grades were manageable with a very steep decline leading into Footbridge. On the map above, this is referred to as “the Wall,” a 2,500 foot decline (outbound) and climb (inbound) over only about three miles. The trails up to this point were narrow, with some sagebrush and rocks thrown in. Definitely not technical, but not an area to be on auto-pilot. Some rolled through shaded forest sections. All in all, a very nice part of the course.
Typical trail section, Dry Fork to the Wall
As I approached the Wall inbound, the trail quality began to deteriorate. Heading down the steep incline I dang near fell a few times, from a combination of the mud and slippery, loose rocks. My mind involuntarily flashed forward to the return trip. The incline would make the trip up hard enough, but the mud, loose rocks and areas of flowing water would make it very difficult. But I slipped and slid my way into Footbridge at somewhere around 8:20 elapsed time or 7:20 in the evening. Thinking I was on pace with my goal times, I checked my cheat sheet to see that my goal was 7.5 hours. Worse, it took me 20 minutes to get in and out of there. The warm daytime temperatures were going to give way to sub-freezing temperatures at the higher elevations. So I changed into long pants, a long sleeve shirt, Gore-Tex jacket, hat and gloves. Changed into dry socks for the next section, ate some food (grapes, an orange, some real food) weighed in and left. Not sure how this took 20 minutes, but it did. I was getting concerned about my cutoffs.
The next section of the course was a long grind upwards, going from 5,000 feet to 9,000 feet over 18 miles. It was here that the trail ranged from “bad” to “worse.” Rocky at the bottom, it was also wet, muddy or snow-covered at various times. Water crossings on makeshift bridges (no handrails, just timbers pulled together). Some crossings with just some rocks to step on, some that you just slogged through. Plus, I really didn’t expect it to be so steep in places—while 4,000 feet of climb is significant, it would seem that being spread over 18 miles would limit the incline. It didn’t seem to.
This section was my undoing. My stomach wasn’t feeling good, although that wasn’t the determining factor. The climbs at elevation were just killing me. I was short of breath, heart racing, stopping frequently just to let my heart slow down and catch some air. The footing was messy, but I was just slogging along so slow that this factor alone wouldn’t have stopped me. The course really began getting in my head, thinking about the Wall still awaiting me tomorrow. By three quarters of the way up the hill, I’d decided to drop. After all, I could hardly breathe, my heart was racing, how did I know I wasn’t doing some serious damage?
I hit the Porcupine Creek ranger station (48 miles) at about 15:50 elapsed time. A reasonable time for an 18 mile slog uphill might have been six hours, while my trek had taken seven+. It was 2:50 AM, my cumulative time was two+ hours behind my goal time. While the official cutoff was not until 5 AM, based on last year’s splits, I was 10 minutes behind the latest arrival at the ranger station of any runner who finished within the 34 hour cutoff. I turned in my number and dropped.
The 50-mile runners start from the ranger station at 6 AM Saturday. Their bus was due to arrive at 5:30 or so, and it would take the ten or so who had dropped back to Scott Park. I deemed it the “quitters bus.” So we sat around for couple of hours, near the heater in the tiny building. The volunteers there were very friendly and helpful. I rode the quitters bus back to Dayton, where a nice young man named Travis gave me a ride back to Sheridan. As a final bit of contrast, the winner (Mike Wolfe) who smoked though the course in 18:43 was arriving victorious in Scott Park as the quitters were exiting the bus.
Post-mortem. I should not have dropped. Realistically, I had one major challenge left, the Wall. I could have changed socks and slogged my way down the mountain to Footbridge. Probably would have hit that aid station at 8 AM, leaving 13 hours to cover the remaining 34 miles. The Wall would have then decided it. If I made that, I’m convinced I could have made it back. Remember, the long climb at the start would be a screaming downhill in the later stages. As described in the “Skeert” post, I’d mentally conceded I might have to drop before I even started. Once the course got fully in my head, I was doomed. The final irony–this year, about 10 runners who hit Porcupine Creek after me finished within the cutoff.
I had no physical woes after the race. No sore muscles, no lingering problems breathing, no nothing. It was a lack of mental toughness that cost me a shot at a finish.
Unfinished business. After a DNF, runners often speak of “unfinished business,” vowing to return to complete the course. I’ve had a number of people tell me that there’s always next year. All of this brings to mind the old definition of insanity: doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results. If I come back, I’ll do a couple of things. First, I’ll come out a few days early and find a place in Burgess Junction, 30 miles or so from Dayton. This is at 8,300 feet, and a few days there would provide some acclimatization. Second, I would do substantial climbing training whether on a stairmaster or running the stairs in our 25 story office building. It was poor planning on my part not to have done this in 2010. Of course, none of this would matter without the resolve to finish.
Success stories. Dave Westlake finished in 31:36, right on his plan. Ray Gruenewald, discussed in the “Skeert” post, took care of his unfinished business with a 32:39 finish. John Adams, from Columbia, MO whom I met at the pasta dinner, finished in 32:34.
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