24 hours of booty - Riding with Lance Armstrong

This weekend, I have the honor of riding with my man Lance Armstrong at the charity fundraising ride, the 24 hours of booty. My booty will be in the saddle for the majority of the 24 hours, or at least that is my goal. How many miles can I bust out on the wheels in one day? Who knows. Who cares? Support this cause to figh back against cancer and be part of this adventure, and hang on for the ride! Cancer has touched each of our lives, or of someone we know.   Donate to the Lance Armstrong Foundation by clicking here. Already made a donation? Come out and support the riders from Friday 7pm to Saturday 7pm on what should be a party all night Friday and all day Saturday!

Tahoe Rim 100m

results

Tahoe Rim Trail 100.4 miles - 32:57 PR

Report by Olga Varlamova

Report by Gretchen Brugman

Report by Greg Luffey

It starts casually.

My Thursday flight to Reno touches down in the arid lands of Nevada. I find myself in a desert again. I have just returned from Morocco, where I spent a few days in the Sahara Desert, hoping that helps with this run. Mom and Dad join in on this adventure and we make Carson City our home for the night. The next day I check in, drop one bag at Tunnel Creek, and walk around town as my lips and nostrils begin to dry up, and I feel like I am turning into a lizard again. We eat at the Bigwater Grille at Incline Village and try to get as much rest as possible before the 3:45am wake up call.

Dad got up early and dropped me off at Spooner Lake, the start of the Tahoe Rim 100. I had another drop bag which I would leave at the start/50mile/finish area. 5am and we take off. I feel sluggish, sleepy, and not very well rested from the very first mile. It doesn’t get any better until the second aid station, Tunnel Creek. I dropped five pounds. I eat a little and drink a lot. The arid heat will slow you down and knock you out if you don’t manage your hydration and salts properly. I slowed my roll and descend to the Red House, and inferno hotter than 40 hells. I met Gretchen here briefly, and I unsuccessfully tried to start conversation here. I slowed my roll even more.

The Tahoe Rim 100 is one and half figure eights, lets see if I can explain this. It looks like a three leaf clover, the middle leaf is the Red House loop, which is also the lowest elevation of the run, hence the heat. I return to Tunnel Creek, and am weighed again. The doctor’s advise me to keep drinking, which I was doing as much of as possible. I swap out a bottle for a three liter bladder pack, which I stashed in my drop bag, this saved my run. Over the next 12 miles I drink more than 4 liters of water, and manage both my hydration and electrolytes well. This is not easy to do, and is better practiced in advance. I pass the Bull Wheel aid station (mile 20.3) and keep truckin along to Diamond Peak. The last 4 miles before Diamond Peak are some gnarly downhill mountain biking trails. I picked up some speed here, and made it to the lodge by 11:21am.

Not hanging around for too long, I down some calories and take in fluids. I still had not taken a single leak, and this concerned me a little. Temperatures broke 90 degrees high up on Diamond Peak Lodge, and I continued to bake in the alpine sun as I ascended the ridiculous new addition to the race, Crystal Ridge, a sandy ski slop fully exposed with no switchbacks. This couldn’t be happening. No way they would add this new section to the already challenging course. This section added 2,000 feet of gain for each loop, giving the entire 100 mile distance an even 24,000 feet of climbing. I duck walked and side stepped this two mile section in 1:15 and looked back at the most stunning view of Lake Tahoe when I reached the top. The view eased my pain, and gave me strength to push forward as many cussed at the climb. My body had taken a beating by the sun, the exposure made it exponentially harder for me and my stomach began to twist inside, I was zapped. I tried to eat.

Once you reach the top of the ski slop your back at the Bull Wheel aid station (mile 32.3). I grabbed a few pretzels and bumed a few vitamin I’s from Joy who I met on the climb up who was running with Olga at the time. I practiced my Russian with Olga. After Bull Wheel, Joy and I ran together to Tunnel Creek. I had a grilled cheese sandwich here, which was heavily, and the stomach gave me the green light to continue eating. My ears perked up when I heard the word burrito, I have a soft spot for burritos. These guys were fully stocked, and even had cilantro to garnish with, whoa! 5 star service here. The volunteers rocked and made sure every runner had all they needed and some. Thanks guys!

I moved onward slowly, trying to allow my body to digest all the calories all while I was uploading as much fluid as I possibly could. I knew from here to the Hobart aid station would be 5 miles, and I made small talk to Joy. We kept each other motivated and ran the trails together for 20 or so miles, while soaking up amazing views of Marlette Lake. I dreamed to swimming in the lake, and lied to my mind that I would. It was pristine blue, and stunningly beautiful when you contrasted it with Lake Tahoe and the snow capped mountains in the background. Joy was a joker, and managed to make me crack a smile here and there. I observed positive energy, which is something I tent to gravitate towards in life.

Once at Hobart, I had one of their famous Ensure shakes. Basically they take vanilla Ensure and blend it with some fruits and ice to make a milkshake smoothie type of cold drink. I couldn’t resist, but my stomach wasn’t on the same page as my pallet. I downed a few of those and threw back some watermelon, and moved on. From Hobart to Snow Valley Peak is 2.8 miles

of mostly climbing. The last .8 miles can be very windy, and offers full range views of Lake Tahoe and Marlette again. You roast in the fully exposed sun, but enjoy some of the best views on the coarse and the wind is refreshing during the day. Joy takes off here as she anticipates her husband waiting for her at the half way, after which he will pace her for the second loop.

Fortune shines upon me as the rest of the first loop from here was downhill. I finished the first 50 miles in just over 13 hours, and still had not peed once. I was getting worried and wanted to make sure my plumbing system was working properly, so I drank even more. I was also very surprised to see so much sand on the course, 90% by my estimation. This run could be called the Tahoe de Sable! You really do feel like your running in an alpine desert. I strongly recommend trail gaiters on this one. I cleaned out any rocks, sand, and pebbles out of my shoes, refueled, and took off alone for my second loop.

I run alone in the sun, and run back to Hobart. There around mile 55 was the first time my plumbing system began to work. I was thrilled. What was odd was that every sip I took out of my bladder, almost instantly I would pee crystal clear out the exact amount I took in. My system worked like a machine, I would sip in and ounce or so, and pee out the exact same amount perfectly clear. This went on all night. As if the body had retained the maximum amount of water it would tolerate. I have experienced this

before, but not to this extreme, and certainly not like clockwork. Sip in, 5 seconds later, pee out, the exact same amount. I reached the state of hyper-hydration, beyond super-hydration...whoa! I pushed on thru the night, and ran back to Tunnel Creek, and took off to the Red House. I thought I could take advantage of the cooler weather and pick up my pace. My body had been spanked pretty good by the sun, and I couldn’t run at a comfortably faster pace without having my heart rate jump up. I wanted to allow my cardiovascular system to recover, so I kept moving slowly. I ran with various runners, who all seemed to have pacers, until I couldn’t keep up, and they would pass me.

Linda McFadden shows up at the Red House with her pacer, Catra Corbett. Linda and I ran together for miles at my very first 100 miler, the Coyote 2 Moons. Who would have thought we would reconnect once again at mile 65 at the Tahoe Rim 100 in the middle of the night? We exchanged few words, and they were in much better shape than the beat up, hyper hydrated, sleepy Sultan. I kept moving in the night, and struggled to stay awake. I reloop back at the Tunnel Creek aid station at 1:16am. I’m a zombie at this point, and can hardly keep my eyes open, so I down a café, and then another! I try to not spend too much time here, as I know the body is vulnerable, and I didn’t want to get too comfortable. I take off alone again towards Diamond peak, which is 13 miles away.

Its only a half marathon away right? It takes me 4:40 to cross this section, which I would consider my lowest low of the entire journey. I tried to keep up with any runner and pacers, just to chat and stay awake. One offered me caffeine gu’s which I took, but inevitably I wasn’t able to keep up, so I pushed on again alone in the darkness high above in the Sierra Mountains in the Nevadan lands of Lake Tahoe. It was a relief when I reached the left hand turn which indicated the downhill section. I tried to run, but only managed a fast shuffle at this point. My condition wasn’t ideal, but I wanted to finish this beast. My will overcame my pain, and I decided.

That’s what hundreds are all about. You have to want it bad enough. It will always be painful to run this far, and it may get to a point where you are beyond your threshold of pain tolerance, but if you want it bad enough, if you have the will, if you dig deep down when there is nothing left, you will finish. You must decide. Even trick your mind. The ability of the human body will surpass expectations.

I stumbled into the Diamond Peak aid station at 5:54am. The new day began its glow, but the sun was hiding under the mountain range of Lake Tahoe. I was greeted by a volunteer who surprisingly responded back to my Bonjor with fluent French. I often speak to random people in Spanish, Hebrew, Portuguese, Arabic, French, or classical Southern to keep things interesting. Where else can I practice? They usually get a kick out of it, and it keeps me going. Well, needless to say, I couldn't keep up with the perfect French, Je ne parle pa Francais tre bien! Ya know what I mean?

I downed a liter of fluids, had a volunteer podiatrist help me tape my feet, re-loaded on the calories with egg burritos, and I was off. Awesome aid station!! I knew I would not break 30 hours at this point, but wanted to finish bad enough that I would fight the next 20 miles in the blistering sun for a second day. I wanted to get this 2,000 foot climb over with before the sun peaked over the mountains. This time it took me 1:05, a little faster than the first time which I don’t attribute to stronger legs (they now have 50 more miles on them) but to the lack of sun beat down. The sun was fully out when I reached Bull Wheel. I kept a speed hiking pace and shuffled when I could. I was with David Wronski and his girlfriend pacer Dawn. This dude was running the entire distance in 5 fingers. I was jealous in more ways than one. He managed a strong pace, and I was often finding myself trailing. I wanted to keep up with these 20 year olds as much as I could to the finish, it was David’s first 100.

We both crank it out to Hobart together and really wished we had a camera up higher above where the views were again spectacular. The sun did not let up, and baked me again. I lathered up in the sunscreen on day 2 to keep the basil cell carcinoma away. Your dermatologist would bitch you out if they knew you ran the Tahoe Rim. The sun was ridiculously scorching hot. I kept telling myself on the climb up from Hobart to Snow Valley Peak that this was the last climb. The body wanted to shut down, but the mind was driving here. Who's in control yo?

Surprisingly Joy pops out of no where with her husband and brother all jolly, laughing and moving along at a fast pace. High fives and passes me, and let me know she has come back from the dead. She spent 3 hours at Diamond Peak, and was determined to get her buckle! She was in high spirits, and I knew I wasn't about to try and keep her pace. She rocked it out, and finished strong. Awesome work Joy!!

David and Dawn were off in the horizon, and now I get passed by John Machray and pacer. This dude looks soo familiar. I have little energy to make small talk and I knew I was getting closer to a finish, and I wanted to be put out of my misery. David reaches Snow Valley 6 minutes before me, and John reaches Snow Valley 4 minutes before me. I get into the aid station, have a raspberry sorbet, and grab a handful of pretzels and knew it was downhill from here. I didn’t stay long, and took off running. Finally my stride was being put to use. I took off and passed a few including David and John, and told them I would see them at the finish.

After what seemed an eternity, I reached the very last aid station, Spooner Summit. I was home free at this point. John catches me here and passes. I didn’t care, I wanted a finish, but I kept moving. With just over a mile to go, I kept my shuffle and eyed my watch. Could I break 33 hours? Sure, if I just kept this up for a mile.

Dad runs the last half mile with me, we leapfrog John letting him know we were on mission to break 33 and I cross the line at 32:57. I was beat, toasted, roasted, fried, baked, rocked, trashed, whipped out, zapped and totally spanked. Holy crap that was hard. I didn’t run a fast 100 but managed to cross the finish line of yet another journey into the 100 mile distance. What an amazing experience.

To date, this is my fastest 100. I enjoy big mountain 100's and have never finished a flatter, or dare I say, asphalt 100. Coyote 2 Moons was my first, Hardrock second, and TRT finishes off the trifecta!

John finishes 1 minute after 33 hours, David crosses the line at 33:19, Joy runs a 32:19, Olga DNF'ed, and Linda McFadden runs a 32:11. A huge thanks to all the volunteers that make this event possible, especially Tunnel Creek. You guys rock!

various photos by: Catra Corbett, bou, Dr. I, & Gerorge Ruiz.

The Canary Islands - Mt. Teide 12,198ft

Summer adventures have taken me across the pond. I spent the last few days of June landing in the city of Las Palmas on the island of Gran Canaria. US Airways flys here, so this was my destination by plane. I then took a ferry to the island of Tenerife. Here I would rent a car and spend the night, resting and planning my adventure to the top of Pico de Teide (12,198 feet), a volcano, and the tallest peak of all seven of the Canary Islands, and taller than Mulhacen Peak (11,414 feet) in the Siera Nevada on the Spanish Peninsula.

I visit the mystical lands of Morocco year after year on a pilgrimage that sends back in time to ancient lands where Sultan's ruled. I could fly into Casablanca, but then again, I’ve done that many times over. So I find interesting routes to get to the lands of the ancient Berbers and Arabs of the far West. This time, the Canary Islands, some 180 miles off the coast of Africa, deep into the Sahara Desert was my approach. No visit to new lands can go without foot exploration and climbing to the tipy tops.

I started my day casually in Santa Cruz, and enjoyed a scenic drive on this magical island they call Tenerife. I made my way to San Cristobal de la Laguna, which is where I pit stopped at a supermarcado and stocked up on some hydration and calories and practiced my Espanol. I bought locally grown fruit, french bread, cheese, water, and a can of tuna.

I took off on the main highway and hung a left of TF21. Tenerife, like Gran Canaria, is very densely populated, about twice is populated as Hawaii. Many of the residents live on the coast, and very few live on the jagged mountains. This explains the miles and miles of high-rises in the major cities of Tenerife, and the 5 lane highway that climbs up to the ridge of the mountains and back to the other side of the coast. The summer time brings out many lobster pink European tourists which only add to the over population. This made me retreat faster to the hills.

The Island itself is less than 2,000 square kilometers, but has several different micro-climates that are evident. The North sees many clouds and keeps the island very gree, and the South is opposite, giving off a desert like arid climate. The West is very mountains, and is home to some Jurassic Parkish like views. Absolutly stunning. More on that below…

I reached the town of La Orotava and began driving up the steep windy roads until Teide was in clear view. The fresh mountain island air brought strength to me. The green quickly turned into black volcanic rock as I was climbing higher and higher. This terrain is harsh, dry, and arid. I parked my car at the trailhead, which is about 2km away from the gondola to the East. Yes, there is a gondola that will take you close to the summit, which is frankly ridiculous.

The Tenerifians have noticed that many want to reach the summit of this massive volcano, and now require you to file for a permit before attempting to climb. This reduces traffic to this delicate landscape, and it is a good idea to plan ahead if you dare to travel to the land of the exotic. My plan was to also stay at the Refugio Altavista, and I had reserved a spot here. Not know what to expect, I figured a place to spend the night high up on the mountain would be called for.

The first 3 miles up this hill was on a dusty double track jeep road that switched back and forth and had a light brown sandy color. I ran and hiked up this section, until I reached the single track volcanic rock, which is where I took my time speed hiking uphill. I passed many, and greeted all with an “hola, Buen-Dia!”

I reached the Refugio faster than I thought, and climbed a bit higher and took a lunch break. The views of the Atlantic Ocean on both sides of this mountain, with La Orotava and the entire North coast of Tenerife from 11,000 feet was absolutely fantastico. I was making good time, so I headed for the summit.

The entire time I was on trail #7, and when I reached high above, near where the gondola would terminate I hung a left onto trail #11 which took me to a gate that was unlocked, and then turned right onto trail #10 which climbed up steeply. Sulfuric steam oozed out of this active volcano which last erupted in 1909, not very long ago. From here there was about 750 feet of climbing to the top. I reached the summit at 6:10pm and spent 15 minutes or so soaking up the views, which again were plentiful on both sides of the Atlantic. I stood on top of Spain, and paid respects to the summit with a loud coyote howl. I did not suffer any altitude issues despite being at sea level for several nights before.

I then ran back down all the way to the car in less than two hours, passing the Refugio and letting them know I would be taking a pass. I was in the car by 8pm, and drove West thru the road that takes you to black volcanic rock all the way to the town of Los Giganties, and as the sun set, I saw the Giants.

Los Giganties, the Giants, are massive Cliffs that rise over 2,500 feet straight out of the Atlantic Ocean. This view is mesmerizing, and as such, a resort town has flourished. German and English speaking pink people swarmed the beaches. So after breakfast I fled to the town of Masca. After passing thru the town of Santiago del Teide I turned left on what appeared to be a one way road up a steep mountain that switchbacked several times. This road was very narrow, and any mistake would take you down a steep cliff and your life would end. The views were again, Jurassic Parkish.

A tour bus raced down this road right at me! My life was going to end, as there was no way the bus would pass. Had I made a wrong turn on a one way road? I slammed my brakes, and reversed to car to a wider patch of asphalt and the bus roared down the mountain. I proceeded with caution, and realized that the road was very narrow, but was intended for two way traffic. I reached the ridge, and enjoyed a café con leche at the top, just looking around in all directions seeing ocean, and steep mountains and cliffs. The village of Masca is home to 150 inhabitants, which is in the Teno Mountains, ranging in heights of 600-800 meters, and extend up to the northwesternmost point of Tenerife. The village in the 1960s was accessed only by paths and was inaccessible by roads. The centre of the village features a small square and a small church.

I planned to hike down the Barranco de Masca (Masca Gorge), and hike back up to the car, a total of 9 miles round trip. It was hot, and dry. Every step my feet took, I could hear lizards dash away, they were everywhere. I took my time running down here, making sure I would be able to find my way back. I passed two Spaniards that were lost. They were clearly unprepared to go down this gorge, one in flip flops, both with no food or water. They asked for directions and water. I gave them an apple to share, and 8 ounces of water, and kept pushing thru the gorge. The streams and bamboo shoots were a change of scenery. I paid attention to my time, ensuring to budget enough of it for my return. The gorge winded around many times over and I saw massive cliffs with layered rocks resembling many sections of the Grand Canyon. I finally reached the Atlantic ocean. I walked over to a small pier and met two local Tenerifians and two German chicas. I asked them if they would take a photo of my jumping in the Atlantic, I needed to cool off.

After drying off, I asked them if they were too going to return up the Barranco de Masca. They thought this idea was crazy, surly they didn’t think they had enough time. They were waiting for a boat to pick them up, and take them to the resort town of the Giants, and offered me a ride. We saw many dolphins along the way. We all had dinner, and then I hitched a ride to Masca, and drove all the way back to Santa Cruz, and catched the ferry to Las Palmas the next morning.

I spent the entire day of July the 4^th touring the Island of Gran Canaria and was able to see much of the mountains, and very little of the coast. I sipped on some cafe con leche in the small mountain village of Tejeda, and saw views of Teide on Tenerife in the distance. A smaller island compared to Tenerife, but just as densely populated. Tourist flock to the south...

No Blood, Lots of Sweat, Gears & Flats

results
write up by some dude
100 mile century ride
8:25:52
Vale Crucis, NC

I completed the Blood, Sweat, & Gears 100 mile century ride in 8:25:52. My legs certainly were not fresh having busted out a few miles in Wyoming the weekend before. What really threw me off was 2 flats, one at mile 31, and the other at mile 76.

My second flat almost had me with my hands up and throwing in the towel. I didn't have a second tube, so I took a nap under the shade for 20 minutes until someone offered the tube. The nap felt great!

Making the cut off to mile 82 by literally 3 minutes, I pushed on all the way to the finish. BSG has some nasty elevation gain, and many
hair pin turns on the descents, causing many to crash, or go off road into the trees. Climbing up Snake Mtn forced many to walk the bike, which I did for 5 minutes or so. This was a great ride, and certainly worth checking off the list.

Bighorn 100

results

DNF 76.5m Cow Camp
 

I met up with Vishal at the Trail Ends Hotel in Sheridan on Thursday. We rolled to the race sign in, completed our medical check, downed some pizza & pasta at Ole’s and tried to get as much shut eye as possible. The next day we were out of the hotel by 8:20am, in Dayton, WY by 9:00am for the race briefing, hitched a ride to the start with Ryan Ravinsky and friends. The logistics of this run can be slightly confusing. It’s a bit like a lopsided out & back, with the return being slightly longer.

Rewind 3 weeks ago for a second. I got sick with a nasty cough, and after 4 days of trying to wait it out I started to treat it with medicine. This hindered some of my training, and the only really long run was the RAM the week before Bighorn. I was still felt weak on the RAM, and put in just over 8 hours on what really is a beast of a trail run. I knew this would be bad news for Bighorn, but heck, I was committed to this run and couldn’t back out. So I flew into the smallest airport I have ever been to, Sheridan, WY.

After the national anthem and a prayer we took off at 11am. The first mile or so is on gravel and flat, so this is where you want to get a little ahead of pack if you don’t want to get into traffic jam heading up to Fence Spring. After a few miles I got into the groove and rhythm of running a comfortable pace. Looking behind me, I noticed Emily Judd, from Bozeman, MT on my tail. “Caccoo, caccoo” she called out…it was the call of a Sparrow her trail name. We chatted it up & checked in and out of the Dry Fork aid station in just under 3 hours. We boogied downhill for 6 miles on a double track dirt road and checked in and out of Cow Camp. Just after leaving Cow Camp I passed Vishal. Vishal is a fast cat, and has thrown down some previous 100’s. He was having some stomach issues. Emily kindly pulled over and offered him some ginger, which he downed. Both of us hoped that he would bounce back fast and zip right by us. I ran the flats and downhill’s, and hiked up the hills and felt great.

We ran for miles and crossed Stock Tank, Bear Camp, and ran a steep downhill into the Footbridge aid station at mile 30. I spent 10 minutes here hydrating and eating food. I grabed some warm cloths and lights and took off. By this time I had been privy to Sparrow’s life story, and the fact that a law school friend of hers was in the lead, Mike Wolfe. Just after checking in and out of the Narrows aid station I see a runner running towards me. “Nice job man” I yell out. Sure enough it was Mike, who later won the race and broke Karl Meltzers previous record!

My pace began to slow a bit after crossing Sprig Marsh, and Elk Camp on the way out as the mud became a nuisance. At first I tried to navigate around it, which was impossible, and inevitably I got mud everywhere. The mud in this part of Wyoming felt mostly like clay. It was heavy and viscous, making for some tricky navigation. This went on for miles as the day began to fade and the night crept in. Sparrow was now out of sight and when I crossed Devil’s Cyn Rd it was pitch black outside and I had all my cloths on with all lights helping me navigate thru all the mud and snow. We were at 9,000 feet or so and temps began to drop to freezing.

I was the 26^th runner to reach the Porcupine Aid station (Mile 48) in 12:02:44. I felt a bit tired, but relatively strong all things considered. The volunteers at this aid station were first class, and strived to get the runners anything they needed. The aid station is indoors and was very warm and comfortable. Several runners were in there for what appeared to be a long time. I asked a volunteer to warm me when 5 minutes were up. I ate 1.5 grilled cheese sandwiches and rehydrated as much as I could and left promptly in 5 minutes.

I hiked back up to Devil’s Cyn Road in the snow and followed the blaze of glow sticks. I saw Ronda Sundermeir running down to Porcupine. We seem to cross paths around mile 40+, just as we did at Hardrock. I caught Iodine from Idaho and we ran together for a while. A big toe on my right foot ended up banging a rock while running somewhat fast downhill which ripped off the toe nail while it was alive. Dead toe nails fall off, or rip off easily, but when they are alive it is a different story. This had a profound affect on my ability to run downhill. It was a shooting pain, and slowed my roll big time. When I reached Elk Camp on the inbound I thought about dropping, but hobbled in and out of there in a hurry to stay warm. I was now hiking downhill and began to get passed by several runners. I tried to keep a respectable pace, but both the pain despite vitamin I and the condition of my body wouldn’t allow me to go any faster. Things didn’t get any better when I rolled into Spring Marsh and I thought about dropping here. This was 56 miles into this adventure. How can I give up that easily I asked myself? No, I kept moving onward in a slow hike walk downhill. My body had taken a good beating. Can I keep up trucking along I asked myself.

I reached the Narrows aid station at exactly 4am, exactly 17 hours on my feet into the run, and it was mile 62.5. I knew I wasn’t going to drop here, but I sat down next to the warm campfire and drank as much as I could and ate a little. I thought this would make a little difference. I kept telling myself I could get out of this low, and would get back into a high, when the sun came up. That’s when I had the idea of sleeping for a bit here and waiting for the sun. I rested for 45 minutes at the Narrows and drank some coffee. I scooted at 4:45am when the glow of the morning sun began to emerge.

I was moving downhill, but at a slow pace. I told myself I would drop at the Footbridge aid station, at mile 66. When I got there, I noticed a few runners that were changing shoes and cleaning up. The volunteers were uplifting. I ate 10 pancakes, and had freshly squeezed apple and carrot juice (what service)! Here I dropped some shoes, inov8 212’s. What a bad idea. These shoes are a bit narrow, and are great for blazing a fast 50k, but not such a good idea at a 66 mile drop. Anyhoo, I had to change shoes as the casscadia’s I had one where so covered in mud, both inside and outside of the shoe that it weighed me down and extra 4 lbs, 2 in each shoe. The mud in WY is heavy clay! To my surprise Vishal rolled into Footbridge. I cleaned up a bit, and after an hour or so at this aid station I took off with Steve and Beat, two cool cats from the San Fran area that have thrown down several mountain hundreds. Vishal caught up. We hiked uphill for 3.5 miles and I was able to keep up with them, but my body was screaming at me. I pulled over to download for a moment. Then I reached Bear Camp, re-fueld, rehydrated and took off, and kept fighting the urge to drop.

I tried to run a little fast down the hills, but that made things worse, and slowed my roll to a painful shuffle and passed thru Stock Tank and finally stumbled into Cow Camp. I sat in a chair and squinted into the horizen as the sun was fully out and blasted the Wyoming landscape. We were just under 7,000 feet here and I sat down for 10 minutes hydrating and eating a little. My foot was throbbing, the shoes were too tight, the body was not recovering, and I didn’t see this low spot going away anytime soon. It was six miles to the Dry Fork aid station, where I had another pair of shoes that would have been more comfortable, but the thought of walking and stumbling another 6 miles uphill in the fully exposed sun seemed too daunting at the time. I had 23.5 miles left to go. On a good day, when your feeling great and with fresh legs 23.5 miles is a long distance to cover. I could walk it in at this point I told myself, but I ended up talking myself out of continuing onward. I dropped at Cow Camp, mile 76.5 after 23 hours on the feet.

Renee gave me a ride in a 4 wheeler to Dry Fork, which is where I hitched a ride with Marianne Fitzgerald from Colorado back to the finish. I ate some food, and took a nap. Later the next day we had pancakes at the breakfast and listed to the awards ceremony. I had the opportunity to take a car out to Burgess Junction just West of Dayton, WY. I explored the lands that once were roamed by Lewis, Clark, and Sacagawea!

4th Roan Adventure Marathon - RAM

This years Roan Adventure Marathon brought out friends from three states. North Carolina, South Carolina, and Georgia. It was the best weather I have seen thus far. No long horn appeared. We camped out on top of Round Bald the night before, which made for an amazing sunrise glow that you usually only see out West on big mountains, and set the tone for a special run a week before the Bighorn 100.

Sultan, David Petroski, Paul Geist, Jinnie Austin, Stan Austin, David Pryor, Psyche Wimberly, Barbara Babb, Sara Sibley, Kristin W, Bruce Babb, Jeremy Hargroves, Adam Hill, and Michael Jackson

14 runners attempted and completed the RAM.

Finishing Order:

Adam Hill
Jeremy Hargroves
Mike Jackson
Kristen W (half)
Jinnie Austin
Stan Austin
Sara D. Sibley
David Pryor
Sultan

Psyche Wimberly
Paul Geist

David Petroski
Barbara Babb
Bruce Babb

Gail Leedy put on an aid station this year at 19E. Without her help, many of us would have suffered more. Thank you Gail!

The RAM has over 28 miles of the most beautiful section on the Appalachian Trail. We run it in early June to see the rhododendron bloom. This year Adam Hill broke the record and ran the entire RAM in just over 5 hours, which is frankly redonkulously fast.

I will let the pictures tell the rest of the story….

Assault on Mt. Mitchell

results
102 miles - 8:42:01

I have approached the summit of Mt. Mitchell almost a dozen different ways; on trail and asphalt. I have run up and down hwy 128, the 5 mile road up to the summit multiple times (Mt. Mitchell Challenge alternate weather coarse, and Pitchell). I have also run to the summit from all sides of the peak on trails. I have driven a car to the summit, the least exhilarating of them all. I would now attempt to ride a bike to the summit. The Freewheelers cycling club out of Spartanburg, SC puts on a bike race dubbed the Assault on Mt. Mitchell, and this would be its 35^th year. I had to sign up for this.

The ride is on a Monday to avoid vehicular traffic on the parkway. So all the logistics went down on Sunday, and it got complicated. Long story short, dropped off the bike in Spartanburg, drove up to Marion, parked my car at the Marion finish (campgrounds), hitched a ride back to Spartanburg just in time for the last left over’s of the pasta dinner and called it a night on M’s couch who offered me a place to crash the night before this monster ride.

I woke up at 5am, doubled up on oatmeal because the pasta wasn’t as filling as I would have liked it to be, and rode my bike to the start. There were hundreds of cyclists, all decked out and lined up at the starting line. We took off at 6:30am.

The first few miles were a bit nerve wracking as we were all squeezed in like sardines in each lane. It took 10-15 minutes to thin out and I began to ride in a huge pack. Im new at this riding thing, and wouldn’t consider myself anything more than a novice. So when It came my turn to lead a line, I pushed hard. Breaking the advice of badass cyclists friends Greg Paige and Mike Jackson who told me not to lead early on. I lead with excitement, and pushed hard. A line of 60 cyclists behind me followed along, and like a snake we passed a few solo bikes that we zipped by. After a hill or two I felts my legs get weaker and my pace begin to slip. So I pulled to the left and let someone else lead.

“Nice lead yo,” “sweet pace…” “awesome lead…” a few people complimented. They all zipped by, and I had a hard time keeping up with my pack, and slipped up as a solo rider for a few moments. Only to be picked up by another pack. I did this a few times and realized that I was expending more energy than I needed to while leading, and tried to draft as much as possible. It was going to be a long day.

Every few miles I would see a bike on the side of the street with a cyclist down, either a crash or a flat. Both would be bad news for me, and I hoped for the best. I kept pushing as fast as I could maintain. I filled up water and ate at the aid stations, and just got into a good groove. The weather couldn’t have been better during the morning.

Around mile 55, a rider that was only going to Marion (shorter ride), with a bib # of 2009, slammed his brakes hard while we were in a tight line. My fear became a reality, half way into this adventure. My front tire slammed into his rear tire, and I lost control of my bike making me go down and kiss the asphalt hard. I got banged up, but only a few scrapes here and there. I looked at my bike, and the handlebar was twisted to the left. Rider #2009 stopped and came back to help. “Are you ok?”

I was fine, the bike appeared to be in working order, but didn’t look the same as it did at the start. I was already tired and knew that I had to finish this thing because I might not be back next year. I hoped onto the bike, and slowly made forward progress. I proceeded with caution, which a wise friend taught me. About 10 miles later I noticed that the bike was making a weird sound, and realized it was my brake pad rubbing. I couldn’t tell if it was my front brake or rear brake, I didn’t care so I kept pushing.

At mile 73 I made it to Marion. Here I refueled, and took in more calories. I fiddled with the brakes and couldn’t seem to figure out if it was the front or the rear breaks, and decided to push on with the added resistance. I knew it would be painful as the real climbing comes after Marion. I rolled out of Marion about 4:30 after the gun time and found my way onto Hwy 80, passed lake Tahoma and started a grueling climb.

I was moving anywhere from 4-10 mph and I could feel my quads pulsating. It began to rain, and I could hear everything on my bike, including the rubbing brake pad. Everytime someone got near my bike, or passed me, they would tell me my brake was rubbing on my bike. I didn’t care anymore. I was on a mission, and I wanted the summit. Yet I was still so far away.

Here I took advantage of my ipod, and played the recently downloaded funky beats of DJ Icey. These tunes gave me a boost and I passed my cyclist up the hwy 80 hill, on the parkway section, and all the way up to the summit. While on the parkway the rain got heavier and made for some scary descents. I didn’t want the bike to slide from underneath me and crash again, so I was cautious going down the hills. When I finally reached hwy 128 I knew I was home free. 5 miles to go, and all a climb. I kept passing people on the uphills, and loved every minute of it. The last two miles were surprisingly level and I pumped my legs even faster, and kept passing cyclists and even a few cars that were just behind some cyclists. I crossed the line in 8:42:01. I wanted to carry my bike up to the summit, but they wouldn’t allow that! They took my bike and shuttled it down to Marion to the campgrounds where my car was.

I followed the scent of the great smelling tomato soup and downed 3 warm cups. I retrieved my drop bag, and found Greg who parked his car at the Black Mountain Campgrounds and hiked the six miles up to the summit. Hey provided some more nutritional calories which I was very thankful to scarf up. I then strapped my cycling gear, helmet an all to my running back, and threw on my inov8’s. After hiking up to the summit, I attempted to run down the MST, which turned into a speed hike for the first few miles and then gradually got faster. My legs were toasted, but I wanted to push myself. We made it to the campgrounds in just over an hour and half, and I jumped in the South Toe river soaked the body. I would feel the affects of this even a week later as this was a monster adventure. Greg, thanks for helping out and meeting me at the summit!!