Antelope Island Buffalo Run 100 miles, Utah

My second hundred miler, the Antelope Island Buffalo Run at Antelope Island State Park in the middle of the Great Salt Lake just outside Salt Lake City. I wasn’t so nervous this time but at the same time I remembered the duress of my previous effort very well. I hoped my slightly different training campaign of doing my heavier training some way out from the race would not prove to be a mistake. I knew it would be a long day, or more than a day. I expected bad weather. I planned my drop bags carefully, I reviewed the route map carefully but I did not plan a timing strategy. For me I think this just adds pressure with little other benefit. 

We had two loops of a fifty mile course. Not sure if I’ve done a race on Friday before. It was a curiously late start, 10 am and a small field that seemed to be entirely locals who were acquainted with the course. Afterwards when I checked the race results I saw all their ultra resumes and realised I was very much the novice in the field.

At the very last minute I made the decision to run in just shorts rather than with cropped leggings as well, mainly because I noticed that many of the other runners were only wearing shorts and I know that I overheat more than average, so if shorts were warm enough for some they would be warm enough for me. I put a pair of short leggings in two of my drop bags in case I needed them later on.

From the start we had an immediate climb. Our first job was to visit an aid station, Elephant Head, then run out and back to the rocky outcrop called Elephant Head, where we were supposed to collect a sticker to prove we had been there. But there were no stickers. Luckily I was with another runner who was totally sure this was the correct location so we returned to the aid station stickerless. She was telling everyone heading for the rock as we returned to the aid station that there were no stickers, which I thought was a bit unwise - I recalled the runners in the Kolkata marathon who had noticed how the timing mat at one of the turnarounds was not working so did not bother to visit it on their second lap. I tried to have a conversation with her as we ran but I don’t think she could understand me. 

It was raining lightly off and on. After a lovely long downhill we went through Split Rock, had another climb on a series of switchbacks, and then returned to the same Elephant Head aid station for the third time. Most of the island seemed to be grassy hills, scrub/grassland mix and a few clumps of rock. There was snow on the highest points. It was pretty without being dramatic. The trail was a bit muddy but nothing serious, yet.

I had my first bison encounter shortly after leaving this part of the island. In the early days apparently people thought the huge animals in the island were buffalo but they are actually bison. They are big and fat with curly horns, but I heard they are not dangerous. I rounded a bend and saw two of them, on the trail. One of them ambled off the trail and the other stayed put. They didn’t look like they were about to attack so I took photos.

We then embarked on the part of the route that had seemed the most complicated to me on paper. It proved to be more straightforward than I anticipated. We had to follow a fence where the bison are corralled then do a short out and back. Then we started on a 22 mile out and back to the southern tip of the island. We were paralleling a range of low mountains but their tops were in cloud. In the distance we could feintly make out the ski resort mountain range on the mainland. In good weather this would be a fabulous view.

This part of the course to Lower Frary and then the Ranch was along a narrow and increasingly muddy trail through grassland with low scrub. I fell into step with another runner and discovered that he was Walter whom I had heard on a podcast a while back. He is trying to get the record for the most hundred milers run in a year. He said that two other runners are trying for this record at the same time! We ran together for several hours chatting about races and American ultra runners. We had to run single file and I was ok when he was ahead because his pace was gentle, but I didn’t like it when I ran in front because I felt pressure to make a decent pace. I was very pleased when he said I was going too fast for him. After a while I wanted to be alone and he went on ahead.

I wasn’t at all sure if I was eating enough. There wasn’t much available apart from sweet stuff. I had many pb&j sandwiches and nutella sandwiches, and M&Ms and some nice lemon flavoured cookies. I only drank electrolyte drinks. Then I had some bacon. Wonderful.

As night fell I became concerned about going the right way in the dark for the last section of my initial fifty miles after Bridger Bay so I asked Jeff, who had been cat and mousing with Walter and me and had done the course before, if I could run with him and we ran together. He and his family hold the world record for the largest number of family members (eleven) participating in the same ultramarathon, this race a few years ago. We parted company at the end of the fifty and I went out alone. I started listening to This American Life podcasts. Ira Glass is my new best friend.

There were stickers in a box at the sticker rock on the second lap. Otherwise I would have had no idea where to turn back.  On the switchbacks section I passed another female who was walking and seemed upset. She said she had fallen and banged her head, and I asked if I could help in any way but she said not. As I ran on I heard her moaning.

I thought I knew the route well enough but I was still confounded several times. I caught up with Walter at the Elephant Head aid station on our third visit there for this lap and when we left there he was only a little ahead so I could use his light to reassure me I was on track. But my need to urinate frequently had kicked in after dark and after a few episodes I fell too far behind him and I was all alone again. 

Things had become much more muddy. One time it looked as though the path was completely flooded (it was like a lake) and I went off through the scrub, off trail completely. I don’t know if this was an illusion or not but I was glad to rejoin the trail. 

The night seemed to pass relatively quickly. I don't know what time it got dark and at first my headlamp wasn’t working properly, then suddenly it turned itself on brightly and it was great for the rest of the night. I had no problems with seeing the mud at all. I remember noticing the time on my iPod at 11.15 pm and at 2.11 am. I did see a few odd things. One time I thought some approaching runners were towing an inflatable tent. Another time I thought a group of runners were standing looking at something on the trail and I said to them What’s going on here? These weren’t hallucinations, just shadow plays. 

In the early night the sky was clear and there was a show of stars. The rain was supposed to finish in the night so I hoped it was over. Later it clouded over, the stars were gone, and the rain came back. At one aid station I could hear the rain dripping on the tarp so I said Is it raining? They looked at me oddly and someone said It’s been raining all night. I had become immune to it I guess.

In the darkness there were some strange light effects on the waters around the island. Lots of orange lights and I never worked out what these were.

Late on in the night I fell. It was a complete surprise and I think I got my foot caught in the twiggy part of a small bush. I fell flat on my face and my headlamp took the brunt of the fall, but I banged my head and especially my nose. I worried I had broken my nose but I was able to twitch it. I got a cut between my eyes.

After this I turned to Emmylou for company, and listened to her on high volume.

I was at about 80 miles when daylight came. Saturday started off a very peaceful still day. I caught up with Walter who was standing by the track and asked him what was the matter. He said he was falling asleep on his feet and wanted to run behind me. Almost immediately I felt sleepy too. I had not felt sleepy all night and I made an effort to shake this off. But he stopped at the next aid station for a nap.

The rain came back more heavily. For a brief while there had been great views of the snow capped mountain range behind Salt Lake City but these were disappearing. Although the temperature had not got any lower during the night than it was in the daytime, it suddenly plummeted. I had no tights available where I was so I had to grin and bear it. Luckily I had put on an extra shirt during the night and kept it on even when I felt too warm so my top half was comfortable. But the trail was extra extra muddy and it was impossible to avoid going through standing water so I had cold legs and feet.

My left ankle was giving me some severe grief. Not a muscle pain but a very sharp external pain. It was most odd and I think it was that my compression calf sleeve was too tight over my swollen ankle. I tried shifting the sleeve around and it would help for a while. There was no way I could take it off. I had also developed a blister on my little toe which I had been aware of for hours but was suddenly painful. Somehow I managed to forget about it.

At the 88 mile aid station the volunteer asked what I wanted to eat and offered to make me a quesadilla. I sat down for the first time in the race while he heated it. It was absolutely delicious with real cheese. He only gave me a small piece and I was embarrassed to ask for more, which in hindsight I should have done.

For my last hours the weather almost brightened up. This may have been an illusion but it looked as thought the sun may appear. As 24 hours ticked over I came to the closing sections and again I was confused about the way to go. I was always afraid I had missed a turning but I kept going. I was hardly running, but when I did run I felt ok. It was just that I didn’t feel like doing it. At some point Walter came past me saying You are the hardest person to catch and I saw him race off over the horizon. I was so flattered.

At Bridger Bay I had a gel, a handful of water (literally and much to the amusement of the volunteer, since I had already put away my cup) and turned off the music. I had just rearranged my clothing so my race number would be visible at the finish as they didn’t have chip timing. 

The very last four miles was a loop around a hill which was close to the start/finish; when we went behind the hill we couldn’t see the finish area. I saw a bison here, grazing. I had done this part in the dark the previous time, and with someone who knew the course, so I had not paid much attention to the route. This time I was alone and I became convinced I had missed a turn. There were quite a few day trippers around, unconnected with the race. I asked one of these families if they had seen any racers go by and they said No. Then I asked a man riding a horse if he knew where the runners were running and he said in a rather American way You know, I don’t actually know where the runners are going. I didn’t know whether to turn back, wait for another runner (but we were very spread out by this time so it would be a long wait) or continue. 

I kept agonising that I had come too far to stuff it up now. To make things worse my watch battery had just died, at 97 miles, so I couldn’t check with the GPS to see if I was retracing my previous 50 miles (which I had done once in the night to confirm I was going the right way). I’ve read in accounts of endurance events how people suddenly feel they can’t go a step further when they seem to be extremely close to completing the task, and I've had trouble understanding this; now, in a blinding flash, I understood what happens. Fortunately I continued and, shortly after recognising a junction that my companion the previous time around had commented on, I heard a woman say to a child Here comes another runner and I knew I was ok.

It was a long and tortuous straight road to the finish but I made it. When I finished they told me I had run 26 hours exactly - this was from their hand timing. Had I known, ie had my watch still been going, I might have tried to save a second somewhere! But in wonderful news the official results from the electronic timing show 25:59:55. The reason must be that the race started a little late.

At the finish they had vegetable soup. I took a cup but it was the last thing I wanted and I had to throw it away, opting for a can of root beer instead. Strangely, I had not been having any food fantasies in the closing moments. They had massages going and one masseur walked over to me as I was by the car taking off my calf sleeves and said I want to give you a massage, I really insist. I thought this would be painful but she was so keen. It was fine. Then I saw Jeff had finished. He saw me and said You’re a beast! I think this was a compliment. I picked up my first place age group award and drove to my hotel while I still felt sufficiently awake. 

Although my finish time was a slight disappointment I knew the conditions had not been ideal and my navigational worries had cost time. I was overall very pleased with myself.

So here are some random thoughts on the hundred mile distance. Firstly you are supposed to go to some deep places within yourself that you normally don’t visit. I don’t; for the second time I felt that this was like any other run but longer. Secondly you are supposed to have all these mental battles about wanting to give up the fight, and all this Beware the chair stuff. For me, so far, stopping has not been an option. It’s just not on the table. Thirdly you are supposed to enter a venue commonly called the Pain Cave. Either I go there on every run beyond about 30 kilometres (quite possible) and I just don’t name it, or I haven’t been there. My real fear is the idea of the distance: it is so frigging far! And I’m in no rush to go back there.

Hiking around Moab, Utah

Delicate Arch

Park Avenue

I’ve had a great time hiking at Moab. The weather has been nothing but sunshine and after chilly early mornings it gets warm in the daytime. The distinctive red rock has been weathered into dramatic shapes everywhere you look, literally everywhere. Unlike Monument Valley where the unusual formations were isolated among the desert landscape, the formations are prolific, often within canyons, but still surrounded by the desert scrub. I’m surprised at how busy it is everywhere; the hotels here are full and the trailhead parking areas are packed. I’m also surprised how many huge trucks are rolling through the town because it is in the middle of nowhere and it isn’t on the way to anywhere apart from a selection of national parks. I came through here before on the way to and from Monument Valley when the weather wasn’t good.

The day after the half marathon I headed back to the same area to do a couple of hikes that were off the canyon road. First I hiked in Grandstaff Canyon four miles out and back to the Morning Glory Arch. This was a peaceful canyon with lots greenery. The trail followed a stream and it had to be crossed several times; at first this was easy but later on I ended up getting wet shoes. The sand would then stick to my shoes and I was back to having disgusting dirty shoes again. The trail ended at an arch, but unfortunately it was an arch with huge rocks behind it so you could hardly see that it was an arch.

Next I did the four mile hike at Fishers Towers. This might have been the best hike of the lot. Fishers Towers are huge slabs of rock sticking up from the surrounding boulder fields; they have jagged edges but have little depth so they looked to me like placards standing up saying Here I am. First off I managed to get on the wrong trail and came to a dead end; there were some climbers on the trail too and at the dead end they just jumped down into the abyss but I wasn’t keen to follow. My GPS came to the rescue and I wondered why the trailhead sign neglected to say that there are two distinct trails here.

Once on the right trail I loved it. I wound along canyon edges, sometimes high and sometimes low, with views of the towers and down into the canyons. The trail practically went around the towers so I could see them from all angles. One, called the TItan, was amazingly tall. The canyon walking reminded me of the mesa I ran inside at Monument Valley: a tumbled mess of rocks and a feeling of privacy. In the distance were snow capped mountains and I could see isolated buttes on the horizon. 

The trail, which was elevated and along rocks towards the end, finished atop a boulder, where a sign said Trail ends here. I did not immediately grasp the significance of this sign. I sat down, then thought that the view might be better from the next boulder along so I clambered down off the trail boulder and onto the other one. Problem: when it was time to start back on the trail I could not get back onto the trail boulder because it was too big and too smooth and there was no way to go around it. Fortunately there was a couple sitting there and they helped me up!

The next day it was time to see the sandstone arches that Moab is famous for so I headed to Arches National Park. I started with the three mile Delicate Arch trail, to the park's most famous site. The trail was nothing special, mostly on a sandy trail and along slickrock, but the arch is most impressive. It’s a huge arch but it’s also unusual in being out in the open on the slickrock and isolated; all the other arches in the park are in among rock formations and quite difficult to see properly until you are right by them.

Then I did the two mile Windows trail to a pair of arches side by side which look like a pair of glasses when seen from their back side. On the front side another trail led to the Turret Arch and when I climbed beyond this arch I could see a little window beside the arch. This sounds like a major discovery but I believe they have identified 2000 arches and windows in the park. They knew of 97 of them when the National Park was created.

Next I did the even shorter hike called Park Avenue. Before hiking I sat on a rock to eat my lunch, a sandwich snaffled from breakfast (because I like to practise my routines) and while I was eating a man asked me to take a photo of him and his woman. He even acknowledged that he was interrupting my lunch. I could have sworn there were five other people there he could have asked so he must have been sure I would take the best pic.

Park Avenue was lined by slab rocks like the Fishers Towers, but the highlight of the trail was the view of the Courthouse Rocks at the far end, large intricately worn buttes and multi-headed needles. I could make out the jury seated in two rows, the judge and the accused, who was shackled to two other people. But then someone came along and threw me saying Wow, that really does look like a bighorn sheep, and later I learned that the rock I had taken for a shackled defendent is known as the Three Gossips.

On the short distance back to the car I managed to go off the trail and ended up in a side canyon. I could hear lots of voices, presumably climbers high above me as I saw nobody.

I thought I was done for the day so I went back to Moab for a coffee at Maccas, but while there I decided to do one more hike. So I headed out to the Corona Arch trailhead, up a road similar to the one we ran along but on the other side of the Colorado River. This was only a short two mile hike but very pleasant in the late afternoon. After climbing from the road I was among a morass of rock and canyons and much of the trail was across slickrock, with an assisted section and a short ladder. This arch was a bit different from the others as it resembled a flying buttress rather than being a complete arch. 

Today I went back to Arches to do a longer hike in the Devils Garden area. It was supposed to be seven miles but with all the extra bits I did I think it was at least nine miles. I started with hiking to Landscape Arch (via Pine Tree Arch and Tunnel Arch). Landscape is the longest arch in the park, or maybe the world, and is roped off because some large bits fell off in 1991. You can sit under all the other arches and this is very popular even though you can’t see the arch when you’re under it.

From here the trail is rated primitive, a term which means little to me although I have now learned that there will be inadequate trail markers. The trail markers are tiny, and I mean tiny, cairns which you can never see when in doubt about where to walk. So I went wrong almost immediately. I thought there were lots of other people on the trail but nobody was around to follow and I went the wrong way. There are so many people out hiking that usually I just go where there are a lot of footprints on the ground but I think lots of folk must go the wrong way because this strategy once again proved most unreliable. GPS to the rescue, again. Then I ended up, in company, on top of a long stretch of slickrock boulder and nobody knew which way to go. We had to wait for other walkers coming towards us to see where they came from. Meanwhile I could admire the Devils Garden, a dense mass of tall rocks called fins.

The hike took us to Double O Arch which was an impressive arch with two openings, one above the other, and then I continued to Black Angel, a tower-like rock with a blackened exterior. From here was an excellent view down over a vast area of salt flats. Next came Private Arch, which took some boulder hopping to reach and was quite secluded. From here there was a lot of slickrock to traverse and some of it quite tricky. I had to do plenty of jumping and clambering. Fortunately there were plenty of the tiny cairns for guidance. I’m very surprised that in this litigious country there are trails like this one which come with only moderate warnings but must see lots of accidents. The last mile of the trail was a sandy path; it was hard going in the hot sunshine and I hadn’t worn my gaiters so my shoes were full of sand, but I didn’t get wet at all.

Canyonlands Half Marathon, Moab, Utah

 

Perfect weather and a spectacular course. What more could I ask? Here I was, back in Utah and only a hundred miles from Monument Valley to run a half marathon in Moab as part of my final taper for this year's big dance. With over a thousand runners it was going to be a lot different from my other races this trip. I only intended to use it as a training run but, as always, when the gun goes off I suddenly switch to trying to do it as fast as I can. Which, for a half marathon, is not fast. But I got third in my age group at a distance I rarely do so I must have done something right.

It was absolutely freezing - read about minus five - when the school buses deposited us near the race start ten miles up the canyon we were going to run. But what a place. The first rays of the sun were lighting the tops of the canyon mesas and the effect when the mesas were reflected in the Colorado River was magical. The river is an unattractive shade of brown but it holds a good reflection. 

I tried to keep warm by strolling around and drinking coffee, which I knew I would regret later when the coffee wanted to exit. We had to walk half a mile up the canyon to the start line and this gave more opportunity to appreciate the scenery. 

Although the route was a paved road the scenery could not be faulted. There were high canyon walls on all sides and interesting rock formations all around. It quickly got warm and I wished I wasn’t wearing my beanie and gloves and a jacket. I took off the beanie in the first mile and the gloves soon after. I wanted to remove my jacket but I didn’t want to stop. Since I had my iPod with me I took a few photos, stopping as briefly as possible.

There were frequent aid stations. It was odd to me that they had no food, but there's a short race for you. I tried not to walk through them as I would usually. Because the road was closed there were few spectators, basically only people who happened to be camping in the area.

I started out as fast as I felt prudent and let the hordes rush past me. I wanted to see if I could hold a reasonable pace but I didn’t want to die. I seemed to go ok pretty much running as fast as I could and I hoped the early downhill would not be replaced by too much uphill. It only took a few miles to be a quarter done, a few more to be approaching half way. 

But around this time, half way, the coffee had had enough time in my system and my bladder was sending urgent messages. I didn’t want to stop and queue at a toilet and there was nowhere you could hop off the road in privacy. So when I saw a line of toilets I just ran on. Eventually at ten miles I saw a toilet in a roadside pullout and I asked a spectator if there was anyone inside. With a favourable answer I rushed in, used the toilet and removed my jacket.

When I left the toilet I felt I ran like a bullet. I had to run hard to catch all the runners I had passed earlier and then I just kept going. It felt really good and I was determined to hold on as long as I could. We soon left the road and moved onto a bike path, still beneath high canyon walls. 

Before turning into Moab we ran right by the Colorado River and then had to run along the highway for about a mile, a definite lowlight of the race, especially as I have driven this stretch several times and knew how dull it is, but then we turned onto backstreets. Moab is a nice place and they have kept the commercialism to a minimum by American standards, so there’s plenty of hotels and trinket shops but it’s not excessive. The backstreets were lined by loads of cheering supporters. I had wanted to break two hours and I really should be able to, but I couldn’t today so I had a B goal of two hours and five minutes. I managed this.

They had a beer garden at the finish line so I joined everyone else in queueing for a very long time for a beer I didn’t really need, and listened to the band. 

I have some observations about running this distance. It felt nice to try to run faster than I usually do. It’s such a different ball game from what I usually do; marathons and ultras are all about conserving energy and self preservation. You have to hold back, you don’t push but you still end up feeling wiped. I felt moderately wiped at the end of this race but the feeling soon went; there was none of that really deep exhaustion. Problem is, I feel that I like that deep sense of exhaustion - it’s my reward for the effort. Hmm...

Shawnee Forest hikes

After my muddy run at Land Between the  Lakes I did some short hikes in Shawnee National Forest in southern Illinois. My first foray failed: I drove a bunch of back roads trying to reach the Rim Rock area in the western part of the forest and after a lot of messing around and having to retrace my route I ended up on a road leading directly into a lake. The lake must have expanded with the flooding. 

The next day I took a better route and was able to hike the Indian Point Trail and the Rim Rock Trail, with add-on to Pounds Hollow. Both were in the deciduous forest and featured huge rocky bluffs pitted with holes. The trails went right under the bluffs. There were some impressive caves dripping away, and balancing rocks. The Rim Rock Trail came highly rated but I was alone there. I continued beyond the major rocks to the lake at Pounds Hollow. The lake was pretty but the beach looked rather forlorn, damp and deserted, although capable of holding a big crowd in high season. On the return to the car park the trail led between boulders on some startlingly narrow trail where even I could barely squeeze through. Is that why no one was there?

The second day I went to Giant City State Park and did two trails, Giant City Trail and Trillium Trail.  All these trails are hard to find even though the car park sizes suggest they expect loads of visitors. There were a few people around today and nice wintry forest. I like the thick carpet of brown oak leaves and that you can have views when there aren’t leaves on the trees to block everything out. Plenty of squirrels. The Trillium Trail climbed above a little creek.

I kept the highlight of the Shawnee Forest for the last day when I did the Little Grand Canyon Trail. Perhaps an overstatement to liken this area to the Grand Canyon but the trail was great. I started with a fairly level mile through the forest to a lookout from the top of a bluff towards another bluff. Below was a muddy river and much indication of flooding. There were a couple of guys there who were doing my loop in the opposite direction.

From the bluff I continued, descending gradually towards that same river, when I lost the trail and found myself among the undergrowth. I could not see where to go as the trail just stopped. But I did know the loop was possible since I had seen those guys. With the help of GPS on my phone I rejoined the trail and saw the sign that I had missed pointing towards a major descent on rock to the valley floor. This trail had come with some warnings, and as I clambered down I could see that, following rain at least, the warnings were not exaggerated. The rock was extremely smooth and slippery with lichen and water flowing all over it. This was actually quite hard going but lovely: the overhanging rocks of the canyon, mosses, little waterfalls, sounds of trickling water, pools. 

At the bottom I was back to dry forest, albeit somewhat muddy. I crossed a few creeks and wound through the trees, then had an ascent similar to my descent. Except that I didn’t miss the signs and the ascent was pretty much straight up a waterfall. When I found myself on the wrong side of the waterfall it was hard to cross it to reach a better path. Then I walked back to the car. It was an odd contrast, the dry forest and the very wet canyon. My trail shoes had dried out from LBL but are now soaked through again.

Land Between the Lakes 60 km ultra, Kentucky

The day before this race I decided to go for a short run in the same area as the race, but further into the park called Land Between the Lakes where we were going to run. There had been a lot of flooding in this part of Kentucky and all week I had been getting emails about what the race organisers were doing to ensure we could run the race despite many of the trails still being waterlogged. Soon enough I saw what the problem was. I was intending to run the Honker Trail around a small lake. When I parked the car it was raining so I coated up and set off; there was nobody else around. I ran down an access trail and found my Honker Trail. Within twenty metres the trail disappeared under water and I could not see it emerging ahead. So I ended up running on 4WD roads and wound a nice, muddy, out and back route in forest to a further away point on the lake shore.

Afterwards I had to go to Waffle House to get warm. In the afternoon they were forecasting heavy rain and strong 40 mph winds with the possibility of a tornado for race day. I was also worried about which time zone I was on because Kentucky is one of those states on two time zones and I didn’t want to get to the race an hour early.

In the end we didn’t get the tornado but we got a lot of rain, a big thunderstorm with plenty of lightning and the muddiest run I have ever done by a long shot. Yesterday’s mud was nothing on this. This mud was yellow or brown and slippery. Very slippery. I saw runners falling all over the place and I was amazed that I never fell once. The thick leaf litter compounded the slickness of the trail and made the myriad obstacles (roots, sticks, hollows) hard to spot.

I found the race mentally demanding since I had to pay attention the entire time, no zoning out was possible or I might trip. It was like skiing in this respect. But for eight hours straight.

The trail was a single track and passing was impossible unless the person being passed stood aside. I found everyone was so kind about this irritation. I had deliberately started near the back and in the later stages I had to pass people.

It rained lightly at the start but nothing serious enough for a rain jacket. We had a brief run on the road from Grand Rivers (where I had managed to stay even nearer the start line than last weekend) then turned into the Land Between the Lakes National Recreation Area and commenced three laps of the Canal Trail. 

The mud was an issue from the very start and we all hoped that this early part was just a muddy stretch, but it never went away. On the first lap it was possible, occasionally, to avoid some of the mud by stepping off the trail but later this just made the mud patches expand. The worst was when there was grass beside the trail because the grass became impossibly slippery too and there was nowhere to go. Many of the hairpin bends in the trail were tricky too, especially on downhills, because of the camber combined with mud. I’m not making excuses here, it was a difficult day.

I was immediately concerned that this race was going to be rather monotonous, winding through the leafless forest on a grey day. But soon I realised we were going to have lots of lake views - we were on a peninsula with a lake on either side which meant we had water to our left the whole way around the loop - and the route wended its way around many inlets. There were little grassy clearings too. I believe there’s interesting wildlife on a nice summer day. Unfortunately the receding flood waters had left a lot of rubbish among the trees which was very unsightly. The trail was undulating with some more marked hills in the latter part; all runnable although I allowed myself to walk a little.

There were four aid stations around the eleven mile loop. This was unusually frequent for a trail race and very welcome. All had cheering marshals for whom the bad weather day must have been most unpleasant. I ate cookies, pb&j sandwiches, and - just once - a bean and cheese tortilla segment. After all these races I still think you can’t beat a homemade pb&j.

The first real rain came very suddenly at 9.30, three hours in. It was torrential and I was soaked by the time I got my jacket on. But it stopped equally suddenly and I was left wondering if that was it. I kept my jacket on and got far too warm, so eventually I took it off, hoping not to bring on the rain. There was no noticeable effect on the mud, except that it clearly wasn’t going to be able to dry out. Looking out at the lakes there was a lot of mist and I could no longer see the far shores. 

Two hours later the real rain started. Not quite as heavy but this time it wasn’t going to stop. Then as I started my third lap there were major sheets of lightning followed alarmingly soon by thunder claps. I was glad I was still down low rather than on the ridge. This lasted for maybe half an hour and then we were back to just moderately heavy rain.

This heavier rain had the effect of turning the single track into a rivulet, yellowish flowing water marking our route. It was actually easier to run through the water rather than try to avoid it as the footing was firmer underneath, but the water was too cold for comfort, and it was only in the last half of the loop that I ran through the water with abandon as I knew I would soon be done. However, parts of the second half of the loop which had been marginally less muddy than the rest of the trail had become very slippery so the moments of respite were gone. Running through the water had the strange effect of cleaning my shoes. They had been totally mud covered, unsurprisingly, and I had been looking forward to photographing them, but now they were clean.

Coming back onto the paved road for the final two miles was a relief but I was so tired I had to walk some bits. There were two long bridges and then a brief climb back into the town. I wanted to break eight hours, in fact I had never doubted being able to do this, but I missed by a minute. Who cares? It was enough to be able to look forward to an imminent hot shower. 

I had hot chilli and coffee (and more pb&j's) in the community centre, and then I walked a short distance to my room. It was amazingly windy, almost scary. After I had my shower I looked out the window and the sky was largely blue with the sun shining. Unbelievable!

Monument Valley 50 km ultra, Utah/Arizona

An unusual race in an unusual place. Monument Valley is an American highlight, with huge red sandstone formations that look like imposters standing up in isolation among the red earth canyons and low bushes of the high desert. Time now to brush up on geology. There are mesas, buttes and needles. The bases, like pedestals, look crumbly but the upper parts are solid rock. This area has featured in many movies, mainly Westerns, and this is where Forrest Gump decided to stop running. I thought the race was in Utah but we were running in both Arizona and Utah on Navajo tribal lands, using several trails that can normally only be used in the company of a Navajo guide, and climbing to the top of a mesa on a trail that is only used once a year during this race.

The main challenges of the race were going to be the almost constant running on sandy surfaces, fortunately damped down a little for us by recent snowfall, and the steep climb to the top of Mitchell Mesa starting late in the race at Mile 23. The snow had come and gone apart from a few traces on the rock faces but it had left plenty of mud, some very slippery. There were many Native Americans, male and female, in the races and a handful of other foreigners. 

It’s been a long time since I slept so close to the start line of a race (2011 at Mt Sneffels marathon I think) and it was great to walk there in a couple of minutes. Again I had been unsure how to dress because I didn’t think it would be really cold, and I had overdressed last weekend, but rain was forecast and I knew the morning would start out cold. I had thought I should wear knee socks and my new gaiters to prevent too much sand getting into my shoes, so I accompanied these with shorts and T-shirt, wrapped my rain jacket around my waist and wore arm warmers and gloves. I didn’t take my hydration vest as there would be frequent aid stations.

After a flag raising ceremony with a Native American and an American, and a prayer by a local, we were on our way. We ran towards and the between the pair of buttes called the Mittens (East and West) because they look like giant mittens. We also passed other rocks and undulated in a big loop, crossing dry gullies and passing a lot of prickly bushes before returning near the start. It was mostly single track and I settled into a position fairly near the back, or at least I thought that was where I was. It was overcast and I was certainly warm enough in just a T-shirt.

I wasn’t feeling amazingly strong but I guess that was due to the altitude, as we were up at about 2000 metres. You don’t realise it when you aren’t conscious of climbing. The car had done all that work. 

The aid stations were fairly basic and most people weren’t stopping at the early ones as they had their own supplies. I made an effort to drink because the dry air would be more dehydrating than my thirst would indicate. Later on they had some hot food, including quesadillas which got me very excited until I ate one and discovered it was filled with that nasty processed cheese.

After our 13 mile loop we headed out in the other direction, running through the area that I could see from my hotel room. At first we were on the tourist road through the valley, a dirt road, and I ran several miles with a guy from Montana. It was a long downhill, fun except that we would be returning later on this same road. One consolation was that the downhill was into the wind, which had picked up. 

We detoured off this road to run around a tall mesa, a muddy trail which felt very remote. In the distance we could see parts of the park where tourists can only go with a guide, mainly long mesas and some natural arches. We returned to the road and passed a tall needle, and arrived at the Three Sisters aid station. The Three Sisters are a set of needle formations intended to resemble a nun and two protégées rather than three siblings.

From here we embarked on our jaunt towards and up Mitchell Mesa. The access trail seemed very long to me, a gradual uphill with no end in sight and definitely the most nondescript part of the race route. The lead runners were already returning. It was about three miles to the start of the real climb and I was looking forward to it even though I had been told it would be hard. I had a cup of water at the base.

The climb was awesome. We were sort of inside the mesa, on the inside of its curve, and it was other worldly. The trail was sandy and rocky, becoming increasingly rocky, and very narrow. I passed a few people and was able to run some of the less steep parts. I felt a lot better than I had felt on the access trail. When we got to the top I thought we were done, but we had about twenty minutes of running to the far end of the mesa through low scrub. It was absolutely freezing on top (someone later said it was twelve degrees F but I think that must be an exaggeration). The best views came at our turnaround where we could see all those unique monuments. The marshals at the turnaround had a little fire going and some runners lingered to take photos. I was more concerned about the impending rain.

At 12.57pm I muttered (joking) to another runner that the rain had been forecast to start at 1pm so clearly rain is unreliable. At 1.10pm it started raining. It was only sprinkly at first and I barely noticed it. I knocked my shin on a rock and it was surprisingly painful. 

By the time I reached the base again and started on the access trail the rain was coming down harder. I didn’t want to put my jacket on because I thought I might get too warm and I set myself the goal of reaching the Three Sisters aid station before putting it on. But I didn’t make it; the rain became heavier and I felt quite cold. This return on the access trail also seemed very long, but I also realised I must be dehydrated from only having one cup of water in ten miles. Along here I realised that I was not near the back of the field at all as runners heading for the mesa were still coming.

When I got to the aid station there were lots of people huddled under a dripping tarp. The ground was a quagmire. I didn’t linger, I just had two cups of drink and grabbed some sour worms and Oreos and headed off. Again I don’t think I had been eating enough but I just can’t seem to get my nutrition sorted. Although several women had passed me on the descent from the mesa I left them all behind at this aid station. It wasn’t deliberate, I was cold and wanted to keep moving.

I had promised myself that I could walk intermittently from here the last three miles to the finish, especially as it would be mostly uphill. But in the end I ran virtually all the way. I was nonplussed to see no other runners ahead or behind me, until I spotted someone a long way ahead. I shortened the gap but failed to close it completely. The road was a sea of mud. I was trying to break seven hours again but it was appearing increasingly unlikely. Before the race I had thought this would be an eight hour race, based on prior results, but near the end I sensed it should be faster than that.

When the hotel came into view I was relieved as I knew I was almost done, but there were tortuous hairpin bends to negotiate before the finish line. Luckily I made my goal, finishing in 6:47, all the sweeter because I measured the race at 54 kilometres. 

I had won my age group which earned me a pottery vase and a $100 voucher for the hotel gift shop. I was ninth female overall. They had hot food at the finish line so I carried some Navajo stew and flat bread back to my room. The finish line area was a washout and not pleasant to hang around. It was hard carrying the bowl of stew, cup of coffee and my vase, and then I had difficulty opening my door with such cold hands. After a hot shower I felt normal again and the stew was absolutely delicious.