I wasn’t looking forward to Red Hot 55k. But by the time I crossed the finish line, it was one of my favorite races.
In the months leading up to this race in Moab, UT, I kept wishing I was going on a backcountry skiing trip instead. Ever since signing up in Nov, I’d spent almost every weekend skiing -- skinning up my favorite high altitude skin tracks and bombing down powder pockets at Berthoud Pass, Wolf Creek Pass, Loveland Pass, and Caribou. I should’ve been hitting 20+ mile runs to get the long miles into the legs, but Colorado was getting great snow! I wanted to be in the high country.
The race came around and my longest run was 17 miles. Not a recipe for success. My cardio fitness was sharp, but my run legs were soft. I formed a game plan. Start very slow. Let everyone go. Run my own race. Recognize that the training is not there for a prime performance. It’s early season man, let it go! After all we have a house in Moab for Team Ultraparty: Jon, Hillary, Andrew, Alaina, and myself. That took the edge off.
So here we were race morning at the race parking area. We walked 1 mile on a gravel road to the start line, where it was a veritible who’s who of ultrarunning. To name drop, Geoff Roes, Jenn Shelton, Karl Meltzer, Anton Krupicka, Darcy Africa, Mike Foote, Anita Ortiz, Zeke Tiernan, Kerry Bruxvoort, Alex Nichols, Joe Grant, etc, it’s ridiculous. There were two Western States 100 winners within a stone’s throw.
We lined up and the RD said "Go!" and a lead pack of 40 or so runners took OFF. It was insane. I was running 7m/m downhill and the leaders must’ve been running 5m/m. The course pitched uphill over some slightly technical rock and no one blinked. The group effort quickened. I held back until the next downhill at mile 2 and then let the legs fly to catch back up with Jon and Andrew. Then we reached a flat, hard packed sand/rock section. The pack I was in hit 6:30/mi and that was it for me. We were only 3 miles in and I didn’t want to kill my race by going out too hard.
I met up with good company, Ben and Travis, as we ran up a few 200'-300' hills until the first aid station at mile 5. I burned through the AS, settling into my pace and watching Jon and Andrew take off further uphill. I chatted with Travis about the American Triple-T triathlon and some ultras until the next aid station at mile 10ish, and along the way we passed Darcy Africa, at which point I turned the effort up a bit at the hills so that I could get some alone time and pee-run for a bit unnoticed. I didn't see either of them again.
I caught up to Andrew who was running near Kerry Bruxvoort (eventual 2nd place female), and Andrew and I commiserated about how hard it is to be ready to race these long distances in February, aka winter. And all of a sudden I looked to the right and we were running along a 1000 foot cliff and then the trail pitched downhill, so I launched over the rocks until the next aid station at 12.7. I got my bottle filled and ran on until I saw Jon around mile 13. He glanced back and said, “I thought I heard a sandbagger back there!”
Ok, so I may have mentioned how undertrained I felt a few times before the race. Yes, I’m a sandbagger, but I really didn't feel ready to race! Jon and I talked about how the course hadn’t been too technical and the hills were manageable so far, but we'd both heard that the second half was much harder. Our aid station refills were quick, and we went back to work. We marveled at the La Sal mountains and how much we loved being in Moab. I remember saying, 'Damn I LOVE running!' along the way, and I meant it.
At mile 19, I saw Alaina in the distance! With the Cody pup! Alaina was snapping some shots before releasing a quivering Cody to greet us with her waggling Aussie nub and wide open face. I gave her a quick squeeze and kept moving. A photographer was just ahead and got a great shot of me and Jon running with Cody in the frame. It’s one of my all time favorite pics.I told Cody to 'Go find Mommy!' and she went back with a few barks at the photographer.
Then we hit the meat of the course. The slickrock was unseasonably dry, but that meant it was really hard: cambered, unforgiving as concrete, and relentlessly undulating. Your legs are always trying to stabilize. It’s deceptively tough running. We started seeing runners hiking the hills -- and Jon never hikes hills -- so I tucked my chin into my chest, stuck to his heels, and gutted it out, passing several other runners along the way. Then came a string of 5 or more runners along the next several miles who were evenly spaced out and starting to fade on the incessant climbs.
Each time Jon saw a runner ahead, I could feel him pick up the effort and steadily reel them in. When it came time to pass, he hammered. I held on. This went on mile after mile. Another runner ahead. Steady catch. Hit the gas. Don’t let them hear how hard you’re breathing. Sometimes there was a comment about the weather, like we were all out for a stroll.
Is this what they call tactics? I don’t know, but I was having fun. And suffering like hell. I loved it. And somehow, I was actually sticking with this very tough runner. I knew he wanted to drop me -- it’s a race after all -- but I’m annoying like that. I don’t like getting dropped. I’m a gnat, too small to swat. And I like to sing. Somewhere in here, I told Jon that I had this Biggie lyric in my head, so just after we passed a couple guys I recited lyrics, “Shit is real, when it’s time to eat a meal I rob and steal…” This is the fun stuffs.
However, navigating was hard. This isn't single track trail that you follow like a rope. The desert is wide open -- you can run basically everywhere and anywhere for hundreds of miles. It’s kind of intensely scary and amazing that way. Jon and I worked as a team looking for the pink/black ribbons that were up in trees, on the ground under rocks, or along bushes. You never quite knew where to look along the way. We saved each other a few errant miles at least a half dozen times.
We started seeing more 33k runners now and it was great sharing words of encouragement to each other with loads of smiles. What an awesome day to run!
Rumor has it that miles 19-34 are much steeper and more technical than 0-19, and this much is true. When we reached mile 29 -- the last aid station -- I’d already taken six gels, two S-caps, and four 20oz bottles of water. At the aid, I refilled my bottle, took two more gels and got ready for the last five miles. I took off before Jon from the aid station and put a bit of a gap on him up the hill. This was my last move to see what we were going to do for the finish. He caught up and passed me, but I stuck close enough, and we were basically down to 4 miles.
I told him that if he had anything left, he should go for it. I was at max effort. He said he was too. So we ran a mile to see what was to happen next. I ran behind him but not far back, maybe 20 feet. I knew this section of course from when I ran here last November, so I knew exactly what terrain was coming up. When the trail went downward a bit I caught up to him and felt ready for the finish. We were 3 miles away. It was time to decide.
I said to Jon that at this point I didn’t really care about beating him or if he beat me. I wanted to pick off a few more other runners if possible, but between us, it didn’t matter. I was having too much fun running with a good friend. He concurred. So we ran together, the competitive edge between us shrugged off. We reflected on how lucky we were to be in Moab, racing an ultra, in great shape, and enjoying the company. Then we saw a 55k guy ahead. It was Luke Nelson, a very very good ultrarunner. We were gaining. And then we were passing.
It was my turn to hit the gas, so I did until we were around a bend and out of view. I gave Jon the thumbs up, and then hammered downhill. We put a gap in. Enough. Both of us were cramping, so we found the right gear and finished the race, stride for stride over the mats.
It’s a race I’ll never forget. To run the last 20 miles of an ultra with a good friend and close competitor, find routes through the desert together, try to drop each other, push each other to cramping, and finish stride for stride together, passing people that you have so much respect for, that’s a great race experience.
I ended up finishing 15th male and Jon was 14th out of 300 finishers, with the same time of 4:33. We hung out by the La Sportiva tent with Team Ultraparty after the race and tried on some shoes, shared race stories, and stayed for the awards, with Hillary taking home hardware as 3rd place female! Afterwards we all enjoyed the hot tub and scotch + beer, and then the after party at Eddie McStiff's.
The next day Alaina and I hiked some new trails that will be part of the Behind The Rocks 50 miler, and then we made our way slowly back over the CO mountain passes back to Golden. In the end I keep coming back to the same thought: I need to go back next year to Red Hot 55k!
