Making Progress

10 states down, 40 to go!

My First (Accidental) Ultra-Marathon

On Friday, Jan. 6 I drove to SLC airport and hopped on a plane at 5:00 p.m. bound for Dallas, Texas. I rented a minivan in Dallas and started the drive to Big Fork, Arkansas (aka the middle of freakin’ nowhere) to run the Athens Big Fork Trail Marathon. The drive was late and long, with several wrong turns (a foreshadowing of the marathon?), long stretches through podunk towns, and white-tailed deer all along the road. Thanks to my GPS and the almost-dead-batteries, I finally found the little Community Center in Big Fork.

Big Fork Community Center

I parked on the grass, set up my pad and sleeping bag in the back of the van, and tried to catch some elusive pre-race Zs. It was 3:00 a.m. Luckily the race wouldn’t start until 8:00, so I thought I might be able to catch about four hours. I set three alarms (iPod, phone, and watch—I sleep better that way) and closed my eyes. Besides the one semi that passed, and the two lunatic runners who arrived a few hours early to run the course TWICE, I slept as well as I could’ve expected, and woke up before my alarms went off.

Big Fork Mall

Runners were arriving, energy was building, and the Community Center was filling with warmth and smoke from the wood-burning stove that heated it. We had a little pre-race meeting which consisted of a few warnings about losing the trail and getting lost. The race director asked: “How many of you have run this before?” About half the hands went up. “And how many of you have taken a wrong turn before?” The same hands all went up again. Yikes. He emphasized that we should watch for the white slashes on the trees. If we didn’t see white slashes for a while, we should turn around and find out where we went wrong.

As soon as we started and got into the woods, I could see why. There were several divergences from the trail. And even sections where the trail was clear, it was often covered with inches of fallen leaves. And beneath the leaves—rocks! It was by far the rockiest trail I’ve ever run. The Athens Big Fork Marathon website contains the following warning:

If you are not an experienced trail runner, we happily invite you to one of the other UTS runs, BUT NOT THIS ONE. This is a difficult event on a difficult trail that presents many opportunities for one to get lost, injured, exhausted, or incapacitated—with sparse access for rescue?

Sound fun? I thought so too. Then I read the “additional note” that followed:

Please do not be enticed into trying this run because of the difficulty warning—it is merely an honest attempt at preventing the run organizers from having to find and rescue someone ill-equipped for the event.

I was sold. How hard could it be, right? I mean there aren’t really any true mountains in Arkansas, are there? I was living in Idaho, in the shadow of the Tetons. I had run some trail races, a couple of them very difficult, so I thought this would be about the same.

I was wrong.

This was by far the most difficult marathon I have ever run. But the main cause of its difficulty is not specifically mentioned in the warnings or on the website: rocks. That’s right, the rocky trail. The uneven, unexpected, turn-your-ankles-to-rubber rocky surface of most of the trail. Even the sections that appeared smooth as I approached them usually had rocks hiding under the leaves.

Now, remember, this trail was hard to follow. It is not groomed, it is not maintained, it is not an ATV trail, it is an old hiking and/or horse trail through the woods, up and over Mountainette after Mountainette (not quite big enough to be called mountains). So you have to watch for the white slashes on the trees constantly or you will get lost. Yet you have to look down at the trail constantly or you will break an ankle (I turned each of my ankles during the race; my right ankle three times! Once, quite hard, and it really made me timid for the last third of the race.)

Hence, I took a wrong turn once, twice, three times a lady. Actually four times. The first wrong turn went like this: “Hey buddy,” I say to the guy just ahead of me “Have you run this before?” “Yeah, a couple times.” “Good, I’ll follow you.” Then we see runners coming back toward us: “Hey, you guys are going the wrong way.” There went my confidence in anyone who had run the race before.

My second wrong turn I was alone, and it went like this: “Ah, this is nice running along the river. Finally the trail is smooth and soft. Wait a minute. Where am I? Where are the white slashes on the trees? Are there any other running shoe treads on the trail? Should I keep going? Go back? Argh!” So I had to backtrack from the smooth river trail back to the rocky, hilly trail.

This was an out-and-back course, so it was a little easier to find the way back. But my third wrong turn was on the way back and it went like this: “It sure has been a lot easier not getting lost on the way back. But this rocky trail is going to be the death of me. Although, this part isn’t so bad. In fact, it’s kind of smooth and soft, and nice running along the river … wait a minute!” Sure enough, I had taken the SAME wrong turn I took on the way in! Good grief.

But worst of all was the last one. It went like this: “I’m SO glad we’re finally off that nasty, rocky trail and on the dirt road again. Only ONE MILE TO GO! There’s a ribbon that marks the turns. But that doesn’t look right. Am I REALLY supposed to turn here? I guess so if there’s a ribbon here.” I stuck with that road until my Garmin read 27 miles. I was SURE I was on the right road. Turns out, I was surely wrong. Double ugh. I had to backtrack more than a mile.

Now, I have to admit, I didn’t really care. In fact, I was kind of excited about it. When my watch hit 26.2 my time was 6:15. That’s right, SIX HOURS and fifteen minutes, so I wasn’t exactly trying to make a certain time. (Start of race: “Maybe I can finish in under five hours.” Halfway point: “It took me three hours to get here, maybe I can get a negative split and finish under six.” Mile 20: “If I finish without breaking an ankle or getting lost in the woods overnight, I’m good.”) So I was kind of excited to be running more than 26.2 miles because it was the first time I ever had, though I can’t honestly call it running. More like walking briskly up hills and jogging timidly down the other side.

Anyway, I ended up covering just about 30 miles in 6:50. Almost seven hours of running! Wow. I never thought I would do that. And I don’t think I’ll ever do it again. By the way, the course record is 4:20. The winning time in 2012 was just under five hours.

Now you might be thinking the Athens Big Fork Trail Marathon sounds like a lot of fun. If you decide to try it, here are a few tips:

1. If you aren’t on a terribly rocky trail, you took a wrong turn.

2. If you aren’t consistently turning your ankles, you took a wrong turn.

3. If you aren’t bleeding from running through bushes and briars, you took a wrong turn.

4. If your shoes aren’t wet from crossing stream after stream, you took a wrong turn.

5. And if you haven’t taken a wrong turn yet, then you took a wrong turn.

So that was my experience at the Athens Big Fork Trail Marathon. In short, I loved it. After crossing the finish “line” (there’s no line, just three guys clapping), you simply write your name, town, time, and distance(!) in a spiral notebook, and then recuperate  beside the warmth of the wood-burning stove.

And if you’re me, you get back in your minivan, stop for post-race snacks in Mena (never heard of it? Neither had I), get lost a few times on the drive back to Dallas, ask for directions, enjoy some friendly southern hospitality as folk outside Kuntry Store scrap for 30 minutes over the best way to Dallas (“It ain’t rite, it’s lift”), fight fatigue from only four hours of sleep and seven hours of running, avoid white-tail deer, and finally crash at the Hutchings Hotel. Same sweet spot where I stayed for the Cow Town Marathon (Thanks Clint and Liz! Great to see you again). Then get up at five and catch your flight back to SLC.

A Local Fan

The lady in the seat next to me on the plane announced that it was her first flight ever, and she was trembling with fear. I resisted the temptation to mess with her (“What’s that buzzing sound? Why is the plane vibrating so much; I’ve never felt it do THAT before”) and I slept the whole way to SLC. Yes, then I had to drive to Rexburg. Sheesh. Why do I do it? You’re not the first to ask me that. Four reasons: 1) Vanity, 2) Pride, 3) It motivates me to keep in shape (I’m coming up on five years of marathoning!) And 4) I enjoy it. Ten states down, baby! My next race is in Sedona, Arizona, the first weekend in February. I bought a 10 lb weight vest I’m going to experiment training with. I’ll let you know how it goes.

Ironman, Here I Come!

26 miles at 10 degrees

I bought myself an early 40^th birthday present (okay, a year early) and registered for the Florida Ironman Triathlon. I was getting a little stagnant during hunting season (I didn’t run at all in October, though I hiked all over tarnation) and I needed something to motivate me again. It worked. I’ve been swimming, biking, lifting weights, and running since I registered. I even enjoyed a 26 mile bike ride in 10 degree weather. Registering for the Ironman has made me excited again about working out. Hunting season, by the way, was a real adventure this year. We saw wolves, bears, big bulls (the day after my tag expired), but not a single buck. My boy got his first elk after a great hunt. Getting it out was a marathon in itself. 

Slowest First Place Finish Ever?

That’s right, I came in first place at the Run With the Horses race in Green River, Wyoming on Aug. 20, 2011. The whole family came with me to this one. I love it when they come along. We drove from Morgan, Utah where we were visiting my in-laws to Green River and arrived in time to enjoy the river festival—a nice little community shin-dig with booths, games for the kids (hoola-hoop contests, etc.), art galleries, hot rods on display, kayak competitions, rubber duck races, a shrimp fry, and so on. It sounds more fun that it actually was. You know how those things are, but we enjoyed it.

We had a nice stay at Little America

We stayed about 20 minutes out of town in the Little America Hotel because I wanted to tell my kids the story of my great Grandfather, Stephen Mack Covey, who conceived of the resort after a spending a night alone outside in a blizzard in that same area. His miserable experience inspired him to build a place offering warm shelter, beds, and food to anyone else in the future who might need it (I don’t know if his dream included a billboard every 5 miles reading NEXT STOP LITTLE AMERICA.) It was fun to stay there, but it meant the family couldn’t come to the race because we only had one car and we weren’t going to drag them to the start line at 5:00 a.m. only to have them wait for four hours for dad to come back from running with some wild horses up in the mountains.

So you’re already realizing the irony of this situation, right? That’s right, I ended up finishing first, and no one, and I mean NO ONE, not even strangers were there to cheer. It was hilarious. The race has a small field, of course, and it’s an out-and-back course that basically runs up the canyon and then back down again. And you do actually see wild horses. Pretty cool. So I had been chasing a guy, trying to catch up with him almost the whole way up. As I approached the half-way point, no one had come back the other way, and I started to realize that I may be near the lead.

I saw the guy ahead of me turn around at the halfway point, and when I got there, I asked the lady at the aid station, “How many people are in front of me?” “Just that guy,” she said, gesturing to the guy about a quarter mile ahead of me. I was in second place! I couldn’t believe it. I was only running about an 8:15 pace. Well, as you can guess, I made sure I caught up with that guy and passed him. I knew this would likely be the only chance in my life I would have to finish a marathon first, so I was really pushing it on the way down, and of course, I couldn’t stop looking behind me the whole way down. I had visions of that guy catching me and passing me right near the end, but my adrenaline ended up putting quite a bit of distance between me and him.

As I approached the finish line, there were no spectators. I knew there wouldn’t be, and normally I don’t care about spectators at all, but hey, I was in first place! Not a pair of hands clapping, not a stranger sipping coffee to mutter, “Way to go, bud.” I just ran up to the spray-painted line on the pavement and stopped. A volunteer noticed, jumped up out of her lawn chair, and asked, “Did you just come in?” “Yeah,” I said. “I think you’re first,” she said. It was hilarious.

It would have been nice to have the wife and kids there to make a moment of it. Instead, they handed me this dorky plaque that you could tell they had recycled from someone’s Eagle Scout award or something and placed a spray-painted horseshoe on it instead. All the other finishers got a slab of soda ash, which I guess is a mineral the town is known for mining. So I was kind of jealous. But the ice cold watermelon at the finish was fabulous and I ate a few melons-worth I believe. When I got back to Little America, my wife asked, “How did you do?” I just smiled. “No way,” she said, “You got first place!” She guessed it. I guess if nobody fast runs, a 3:42 will do it. We had a good laugh over the plaque. 

My Best Race Yet?

Fighting to the Finish Line

My fifth time running the Teton Dam marathon in Rexburg, Idaho turned out to be my fastest yet on the course (3:15), and fast enough for a third place finish. I love running this race because it was my first marathon ever, and it’s my hometown race (no planes, trains, and automobiles!) My family is always there and the comfort of my home is not far from the finish line. My brother was here to run the half, which also motivated me to run fast.

Me, My Brother, and our Families

The Mesoamerica Tour I direct in April/May makes it a little challenging to be ready by June, but since this was my second year on the tour, I knew of some pretty good routes to run in Mexico, Guatemala, and Belize. I also tried to eat light and lost a few pounds during the trip. I approached the Teton Dam race near or at my lowest weight since I started running.

Had a nice barefoot run along this beach in Tulum

I trained consistently and was able to get pretty comfortable with the 7:30 pace, but the wild card is always the four miles up Summers hill near the end. I knew if I could keep it under 8 minute miles on the hill, I could finish near 3:15. Every 10-mile training run I did, I ran up that hill. And on my 20 miler, I looped it twice, something I had never done before.

The race went well from the beginning, the weather was nice, and I just felt strong going up the hill. I had shaved my legs (first time since qualifying for Boston), and I had bought a light-weight pair of Brooks bright-orange racing shoes. I even wore a pair of lightweight socks. I was trying to shave off every once I could to make a 3:15 possible for me on this course.

It paid off. It would’ve been nice to set a PR, but I missed it by a minute. The racing shoes felt a little hard beneath my feet by the end, but the lighter weight made a difference. I was very happy with my time for this course (it’s no St. George!) and it was fun to place third. I think the only way I’m going to get any faster at this point is if I can lose more weight. I’ve plateaued for quite some time now, and the distance running works up such an appetite. I can’t seem to get enough peanut butter toast and chocolate milk.

Finished at last

Way to go, Bro!

I ran the SLC marathon for the second time on April 16, 2011, this time with my brother. It was his first marathon, and so fun to run it together. He lost thirty pounds, gained two babies (twins), and completed an MBA during the time he trained. Wow! He’s my first sibling to run a marathon with me. Our goal was 4:00 hours and we came in just over that at 4:04. He beat me by one second, the sneaky devil. Way to go, Bro! Hopefully, we’ll do another together again soon.

Trails, Hills, and Hunting

I’ve run three marathons since my last post: the Teton Dam Marathon (again), the North Country Trail Marathon (Manistee, Michigan), and the Golden Hills Trail Marathon, (Berkeley, CA). The month before the Teton Dam Marathon, I was travelling through Mexico, Guatemala, and Belize with a group of students so it was difficult to train regularly, and the heat and humidity were killers, but the scenery made up for it—rain forests, pristine beaches, volcanoes, Maya villages, and Mexico City’s Chapultapec Park.

As soon as I returned from the trip, I put in a 20 miler and trained consistently until the race. Race day came with a terrible wind, but mostly at our backs, which helped push me up Summer’s Hill and finish in 10th place overall with a PR for that course (3:27). The new race directors changed the course (again) which eliminated some of the hills at the beginning and made it easier than any of the previous versions of the course.

In July I cracked some ribs while I was waterskiing and ended up not running for about a month (not waterskiing either which was a bummer). But gradually my ability to breathe deeply without pain returned and I returned to running. I prepared for the North Country Trail Marathon. It was the first time I went to run a marathon solely for the sake of checking it off my 50 states list; what I mean is that the only thing that took me to Michigan was the race since I have no friends or family there and my wife didn’t go with me. I simply caught a plane on Friday morning, rented a car at the airport, drove to the Manistee National Forest, checked in for the race, set up my tent, went to town for some dinner and site seeing (I’d never seen any of the Great Lakes before), and then returned to my camp and slept in my tent. In the morning, I ran the race, which was a beautiful, winding, leaf-covered trail through the woods. My Garmin couldn’t get reception for most of the race, which created a nice primitive feel of simply running through the trees. At about mile 20 I tripped on a root and landed face first. A little delirious after my fall, I took a wrong turn for about .5 miles, but realized my error and returned to the course. I finished in 3:56 and took first in my division. Due to some complications, we waited forEVER for the results, and then I started another race: rental car race to the airport to catch my flight. After some insane driving, I arrived about 20 minutes before my flight was scheduled to leave only to find out it had been delayed an hour. Whew. Too much racing in one day. But it was nothing compared to the people who did the same course TWICE (North Country Trail Ultra 50 Miler) and sprinted to a photo finish. Insane.

My last marathon of the year was my hardest yet: The Golden Hills Trail Marathon. I knew it was hilly, so I trained on hills, but even that was not enough to prepare me for the difficulty of this course. It is literally up and down the whole way on a rugged trail, some hills so steep you have to walk them. But the redwoods were inspiring and the views of the bay. Still, I pooped out by the end and had to walk off-and-on for the last few miles to keep from cramping. I finished 15th overall in 4:25, my slowest marathon time yet. I stayed with my sister, and her hubby took me to the wharf and Golden Gate Bridge after the race. I also won a small four wheeler at a raffle. I ended up renting a pickup and driving back instead of flying. The kids were excited about the four wheeler and had a good time driving it around the back yard for the next few weeks before the snow came.

Golden Gate Bridge

San Fran Bay

The Golden Hills Trail race was good preparation for hunting season. I hiked all over Idaho with my boys trying to fill a general deer tag, but had no luck. On a whim, I bought my first spike elk tag and harvested this beauty the same week.

After the Mesoamerica Tour in the spring, two fall marathon weekends, hunting season, and a work-related trip to Egypt and Israel for two weeks right before Christmas, I decided to take a break from travelling during the winter (i.e., I was in the doghouse). Maybe towards the end of the summer or this fall I’ll try to run a few new states. In the mean time, I’ve been training to run the SLC marathon with my brother (it’s his first, and he’s lost like 30 pounds training!) And then I’ll run the Teton Dam again. My “barefoot form” is going great. I’ve been training hard in my crappy old shoes with no injuries and quick recoveries. If I could only eat right consistently I’d be lighter and faster, but have you tried those new Reese’s Peanut-Butter Cup Minis? Yum.