Friday, June 26, 2009
Bighorn Mountain Wild & Scenic Trail Run 30K race report
It's been awhile since I've posted... No excuses for the lack of posts, just short of time & not much to write about. But, last weekend I ran in the BHTR 30K & now I have all sorts of stuff to write about! :) I'm writing this as I sit in a camping chair, drinking a beer, while the pups hang out in the shady lawn with me. *Life is good*
BHTR race day arrives & I am READY. It was my first "big" race & has always held a close spot in my heart. My alarm pulls me out of deep slumber - first thing on the list: take care of the dogs. These beasts don't wait for anything. They want their food & potty break & they want it NOW. Dogs: check. Now onto me. Quick shower to shake off sleepiness, dirtiness, & as I sneeze several times, any pollens that might decide to ruin my run. Make sure the bowels have emptied (sorry for the graphics, but it's a true reality), pull on my well-thought running "outfit," apply sunscreen, check & re-check drop bag, wait for ride. My friends arrive at the door, we grab a few last-minute items, & we make our way to Dayton.
We arrive at the bus, line up & pile on like excited kindergartners on their first day of school (sans crying & asking for Mommy...although I'm sure a few people were tempted). The bus roars to life & we head up the mountain. Driving, excited chatter, more driving, more excited chatter. Arrive at the start line, last-minute Porta Potty stops, more excited chatter, passive stretching, sing National Anthem, countdown, & WE'RE OFF!
I'm running up..and up...and up. It's a slow, long uphill & it quickly takes the life out of every over-eager runner. Reminding myself to take it easy, I continue the long trek upwards. At times, we log jam & everyone walks. I welcome the short breaks. Eventually we make it to the top of the neverending hill. Bombing downhill, I enjoy the beautiful scenery & weather. After a few miles on old dirt road, we make it onto single track trail. The trail winds & bends & my feet fly as I smile. I feel good. People pass me, I pass people. Occasionally, I see a sight & my breath catches in my throat. I jump off the trail & snap a picture. The single track is good to me - no major ups & no major downs. I find myself at another dirt road no more than 0.5 mi away from the first aid station. And this road climbs. Everyone stumbles to a stop & walks. Up & up. A short, but very steep, upward climb. I make it to the top, huffing & puffing, & begin a slow jog on the flat. The flat becomes downhill & I zoom into the aid station. "Number seven is in." I look around at the wonderful bounty before me. Chips, cookies, baked potato chunks & salt, candy, fruit. Trail run aid stations are the BOMB. Loaded with every form of energy food you can imagine. I grab a few orange slices & baked potato chunks dunked in salt. Yum. I chat with the man that sponsors the aid station - Bruce Burns, the Wyoming State Senator. Nice guy, but a politician. 'Nuff said. I wouldn't mind hanging out all day, but I have another 13ish miles. Get your a** moving, Ramirez. Off I go. "Number seven, out."
I continue on the single track trail, albeit much slower to allow the food time to digest. No need to take off like Speedy Gonzalez & end up with stomach cramps the rest of the day. I stop, drink water, & continue my slow jog. Part of the slowness comes from the looming monster ahead of me. This is my third year at the race, I know what to expect. And there she is. "The Wall." As if the world suddenly turned on its side & I now face the trail going upwards at a 90 degree angle. Ouch. Even hiking up the trail is tiring. Up & up & up. The steep dirt road shortly before the first aid station pales in comparison to this wall. From the bottom, it looks as though the climb goes into the clouds. Hands on my hips, I put one foot in front of the other. Coming out of the trees near the top, I break out into the open & see wildflower colors from every corner of the color wheel. Thanks to our recent wet & warm weather, Mother Nature has blessed us with views that I believe are the most fantastic of any other year I've run the BHTR.
Like a little girl running through a field of wildflowers, I begin skipping & smiling as I make my way down the mountain. The scenery is un.be.lie.va.ble. Several people see me stop to take pictures & as they pass me, probably wonder to themselves "who is this girl taking pictures & smiling like an idiot?" It's beautiful. Down & down I go. The quads & knees scream for mercy. I laugh (wince a little) & keep moving. Familiar landmarks pop out at me. I'm hungry, but I know I'm close to the second aid station. Right foot. Left foot. I tumble into the second aid station & immediately grab water. Surveying the spread, I choose orange slices & chewy candy orange slices. I hear someone stomping in behind me & turn to see a friend standing next to me. We chat, reliving the falling/running/skipping downhill.
I decide I'm feeling better, wish her luck & take off on the trail. Only ~7.5 miles from the finish line, I push myself. My feet fly over the rolling single track. To continue moving forward in an upright stance, I hike the uphills & run the flat & downhill. The canyon is steaming hot & I can feel it taking a toll. Trudging along, I continue along & make my way into the third aid station. I remember from past years a volunteer using a water mist wand - he's my first target. Immediately I find him & stand in front of the cooling water. Ahh, glorious cold water. I decide not to hog the spraying water & hit up the food. More fresh fruit - watermelon & orange, they taste so delicious. My friend beat me to the aid station & we begin chatting. Hanging around probably longer than necessary, we decide to take off together.
Thank God we ran together. The last 5 miles are the WORST - flat gravel road in which you can see forever but you can not see the finish line. We encourage each other, slowly jogging along the road, making idle chatter to keep our minds off the fatigue. We reach a small uphill & decide to walk. We walk until our last aid station, only two miles to the finish. The aid station is small, but they have icy pops. Yummy! We decide to walk until we finish our icy pops, then run the rest of the way to the finish line. Our icy pops finished, we begin our jog. We round a corner & see the road crossing that will take us into the park. Into the park & into the finish line. I push the pace. I tell her we're incredibly close & if she's up for it, we can finish strong. We're smiling & running. People begin cheering as we make our way into the park. The pain vanishes as adrenaline kicks in. The volunteers yell at us to run in single file (not something you want to hear when you've just run 18 miles, but I won't get started on that) & my friend urges me to run ahead of her. I cross the finish line & jump in the air with excitement!
Overall, my time is 8 minutes faster than 2007 when I ran the BHTR 30K for the first time. However, not only is it 8 minutes faster, but this year I stopped during the run to take pictures. Needless to say, I did as well as I hoped. And with that, I will now post pictures of the run...
BHTR race day arrives & I am READY. It was my first "big" race & has always held a close spot in my heart. My alarm pulls me out of deep slumber - first thing on the list: take care of the dogs. These beasts don't wait for anything. They want their food & potty break & they want it NOW. Dogs: check. Now onto me. Quick shower to shake off sleepiness, dirtiness, & as I sneeze several times, any pollens that might decide to ruin my run. Make sure the bowels have emptied (sorry for the graphics, but it's a true reality), pull on my well-thought running "outfit," apply sunscreen, check & re-check drop bag, wait for ride. My friends arrive at the door, we grab a few last-minute items, & we make our way to Dayton.
We arrive at the bus, line up & pile on like excited kindergartners on their first day of school (sans crying & asking for Mommy...although I'm sure a few people were tempted). The bus roars to life & we head up the mountain. Driving, excited chatter, more driving, more excited chatter. Arrive at the start line, last-minute Porta Potty stops, more excited chatter, passive stretching, sing National Anthem, countdown, & WE'RE OFF!
I'm running up..and up...and up. It's a slow, long uphill & it quickly takes the life out of every over-eager runner. Reminding myself to take it easy, I continue the long trek upwards. At times, we log jam & everyone walks. I welcome the short breaks. Eventually we make it to the top of the neverending hill. Bombing downhill, I enjoy the beautiful scenery & weather. After a few miles on old dirt road, we make it onto single track trail. The trail winds & bends & my feet fly as I smile. I feel good. People pass me, I pass people. Occasionally, I see a sight & my breath catches in my throat. I jump off the trail & snap a picture. The single track is good to me - no major ups & no major downs. I find myself at another dirt road no more than 0.5 mi away from the first aid station. And this road climbs. Everyone stumbles to a stop & walks. Up & up. A short, but very steep, upward climb. I make it to the top, huffing & puffing, & begin a slow jog on the flat. The flat becomes downhill & I zoom into the aid station. "Number seven is in." I look around at the wonderful bounty before me. Chips, cookies, baked potato chunks & salt, candy, fruit. Trail run aid stations are the BOMB. Loaded with every form of energy food you can imagine. I grab a few orange slices & baked potato chunks dunked in salt. Yum. I chat with the man that sponsors the aid station - Bruce Burns, the Wyoming State Senator. Nice guy, but a politician. 'Nuff said. I wouldn't mind hanging out all day, but I have another 13ish miles. Get your a** moving, Ramirez. Off I go. "Number seven, out."
I continue on the single track trail, albeit much slower to allow the food time to digest. No need to take off like Speedy Gonzalez & end up with stomach cramps the rest of the day. I stop, drink water, & continue my slow jog. Part of the slowness comes from the looming monster ahead of me. This is my third year at the race, I know what to expect. And there she is. "The Wall." As if the world suddenly turned on its side & I now face the trail going upwards at a 90 degree angle. Ouch. Even hiking up the trail is tiring. Up & up & up. The steep dirt road shortly before the first aid station pales in comparison to this wall. From the bottom, it looks as though the climb goes into the clouds. Hands on my hips, I put one foot in front of the other. Coming out of the trees near the top, I break out into the open & see wildflower colors from every corner of the color wheel. Thanks to our recent wet & warm weather, Mother Nature has blessed us with views that I believe are the most fantastic of any other year I've run the BHTR.
Like a little girl running through a field of wildflowers, I begin skipping & smiling as I make my way down the mountain. The scenery is un.be.lie.va.ble. Several people see me stop to take pictures & as they pass me, probably wonder to themselves "who is this girl taking pictures & smiling like an idiot?" It's beautiful. Down & down I go. The quads & knees scream for mercy. I laugh (wince a little) & keep moving. Familiar landmarks pop out at me. I'm hungry, but I know I'm close to the second aid station. Right foot. Left foot. I tumble into the second aid station & immediately grab water. Surveying the spread, I choose orange slices & chewy candy orange slices. I hear someone stomping in behind me & turn to see a friend standing next to me. We chat, reliving the falling/running/skipping downhill.
I decide I'm feeling better, wish her luck & take off on the trail. Only ~7.5 miles from the finish line, I push myself. My feet fly over the rolling single track. To continue moving forward in an upright stance, I hike the uphills & run the flat & downhill. The canyon is steaming hot & I can feel it taking a toll. Trudging along, I continue along & make my way into the third aid station. I remember from past years a volunteer using a water mist wand - he's my first target. Immediately I find him & stand in front of the cooling water. Ahh, glorious cold water. I decide not to hog the spraying water & hit up the food. More fresh fruit - watermelon & orange, they taste so delicious. My friend beat me to the aid station & we begin chatting. Hanging around probably longer than necessary, we decide to take off together.
Thank God we ran together. The last 5 miles are the WORST - flat gravel road in which you can see forever but you can not see the finish line. We encourage each other, slowly jogging along the road, making idle chatter to keep our minds off the fatigue. We reach a small uphill & decide to walk. We walk until our last aid station, only two miles to the finish. The aid station is small, but they have icy pops. Yummy! We decide to walk until we finish our icy pops, then run the rest of the way to the finish line. Our icy pops finished, we begin our jog. We round a corner & see the road crossing that will take us into the park. Into the park & into the finish line. I push the pace. I tell her we're incredibly close & if she's up for it, we can finish strong. We're smiling & running. People begin cheering as we make our way into the park. The pain vanishes as adrenaline kicks in. The volunteers yell at us to run in single file (not something you want to hear when you've just run 18 miles, but I won't get started on that) & my friend urges me to run ahead of her. I cross the finish line & jump in the air with excitement!
Overall, my time is 8 minutes faster than 2007 when I ran the BHTR 30K for the first time. However, not only is it 8 minutes faster, but this year I stopped during the run to take pictures. Needless to say, I did as well as I hoped. And with that, I will now post pictures of the run...
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