Black Canyon 100k race report

It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness...

~Charles Dickens, A Tale of Two Cities

There is inherently a level of stupidity that accompanies an ultra-marathon regardless of the distance. Combine that with atypical Arizona weather conditions - rain, wind and cold temperatures - and 2 types of people showed up for the Black Canyon 100k this year:

1. This sucks. I hate running. I quit.
2. Play in the mud? Cool! Sounds awesome!

This historically hot and dry race got flipped on its head as a storm front moved through central Arizona over the weekend dumping almost 1.5" of rain and dropping evening temperatures into the mid-30's.

The Dicken's quote is significant for me because despite the conditions and change to the course, this was perhaps my best worst race ever...

Start to Antelope Mesa (mile 7.3)

Adrenaline combined with race-day excitement makes the first couple miles of the race whiz by as you're running through the streets of Mayer. Once we turned onto the Forest Service road however, I had serious doubts in my head that this race was going to happen.

...and this was when it was in good shape!
Photo: SweetM Images

Think about the deepest, stickiest mud you can possibly imagine - the kind where your shoes sinks in 3-4 inches, creates enough suction and causes your heel to pop out of your shoe. After about 50 feet of this (a) running is not longer an option, (b) the cumulative mud-pack on the bottom of your shoes has made you 6" taller and (c) your groin is strained from all the lateral slipping.

It's a good thing you eventually hop onto the AZT - which was in MUCH better shape...I wasn't about to spend the entire day slogging through a mud-bog.

Antelope Mesa to Hidden Treasure (mile 12.5)

I don't remember anything super-good or bad about this section. The AZT was in pretty good shape and the wind started to die down but other than that, my focus was settling into a solid pace.

This would be the first time I'd see my crew as well. Apparently, I already looked defeated...while I don't remember acting like I was going to drop, GG says he deliberately rushed me through the aid station just to be sure :-)

Yes, it's still raining.

Hidden Treasure to Bumble Bee (mile 19.2)

Aside from the mileage and consistent hammering your knees take from the downhill portion of this course, I don't remember having any issues through this 20 miles.

The rain started to subside a bit but not enough to ditch the rain coat. The awesome part of this race is that the AZT is extremely friendly to runners and of course net downhill. It's also the part that can trash your quads because it's way too easy to fly down the course.

I made a point this year to keep my pace in check no matter what (I didn't pick a pace, I just settled into one that felt like I could run all day).

Due to the course change, I did spend quite a bit of time considering what I would need to take for the next 20 miles. Bumble Bee is the last place you see your crew for the next 5-6 hours.

Bumble Bee ONB (mile 42.2)

Fast-forward a bit. I've left Bumble Bee and arrive at Gloriana Mine to find multiple trail friends hanging out and cheering everyone on. It's always a great feeling to have folks around propping you up and yelling words of encouragement.

Should I go on? Absolutely!
Photo: TA Mora

Leaving Gloriana Mine, you head off on what looks like a very reasonable section of trail only to see a big-ass climb in front of you...specks of people making their way up and over to the turn-around point (Soap Creek). It was a climb but nothing too horrible.

Sweet mother of Mary, the rain has stopped. Is it getting warm?!

Descending into Black Canyon City, it's very easy to go crazy on the descent. But I didn't. I kept my relaxed pace and let gravity do most of the work.

What seemed like forever, I finally got to the turn around point and nearly stripped down to nothing because it was so warm compared to the start. I was dreading the climb back up the mountain but ended up chatting with a new Dirtbag friend from Phoenix...turns out we have a few friends in common - such a small world. The time passed quickly and before long, we'd crested and were heading back down into Gloriana Mine.

Still, no rain.

Lots of people stopped at Gloriana to change their socks and shoes. It made me wonder if I'd made a mistake only having nutrition waiting for me. I didn't really have any feet issues at the time and was honestly debating on whether to change them when I got back to Bumble Bee. My Peregrine + Injinji combo were solid up to that point even with the moisture and mud so I figured why change what's working?

Turns out, changing shoes at Bumble Bee was the best thing EVER. In fact, I changed everything to ensure I started the final stretch as dry as I could.

And then the rain started again.

Bumble Bee to Antelope Mesa (mile 54.1)

After my extensive wardrobe change, RM would pick me up to begin pacing. An uneventful stretch would put us into Hidden Treasure just as darkness set in...earlier than normal because of the cloud cover. The weather of course was poised to get nasty.

Somewhere around mile 50 the Stinger chews weren't happening. I can only surmise that I was eating too much and over-hydrating. Cause I spewed. Hard. A couple lurches and my stomach emptied...and instantly I felt better! Carry on! :-)

The rain was now near horizontal and escalated to real drops that made runners, crew and aid stations just miserable. Now add the 20 mph winds and colder temperatures and we knew by the time we reached Antelope Mesa, the last 7 miles were going to be a doozy.

Antelope Mesa to Finish (61.4)

This aid station was a complete mess. Barely big enough for the tables and volunteers, runners and crew were doing their best to cram under the flapping tent wings in hopes of staying warm.

Though the trek out of the valley to the final aid station was slow and steady, I had not allowed my core temperature to drop - always moving and still bundled up. I did have a problem with my hands however - they were cold and soaked from the rain...biting even more in the sharp winds.

GG stepped into pace the last 7 miles and also offered up his completely water-proof gloves. Definitely clutch!

Off we went into what I already knew was going to be the messiest, slowest and wettest part of the run given what we'd slogged through earlier that day. Man, it did not disappoint.

No path was dry. No line was solid. You'd slip. You'd slide. You couldn't tell the mud from the rocks. The only thing you could do was run straight through the massive puddles clinging to what little balance and foot strength you had left...praying you didn't fall on your face.

"That's not mud chuck-o"

The only saving grace or running through cold water is that it helps with swollen feet!

Before long we found ourselves on solid ground and within site of the city lights fighting the wind gusts and rain pelting the right side of our faces. We both swore it was sleet but I'm guessing it was just a cold rain with a little sting in it.

I've never been so happy to run roads than I was those last couple miles back to the high school! You know it's a tough stretch when you pass 3 different solo runners bundled up in their silver/gold emergency blankets.

I would run into the track with little to no fanfare - RM taking some video and a lonely volunteer at the finish line attempting to take my picture. Happy to be done I thanked them, grabbed by pint and buckle and continued to run towards the high school gym were my warm clothes and food were waiting.

Not a single blister...thanks Injinji!

Closing Thoughts

The best worst race ever: I paced myself completely from the start and ran 75% of the course. Despite the elements, I fueled and hydrated well, kept moving and never got mental about the distance or trail conditions. I finished 30 minutes slower than last year's 'normal' conditions...perhaps faster had I not stopped to change clothes 5 times :-)

Cross-training = strength: last year, my knees and quads took a pounding on the course. This year, after hours and hours of strength training, I felt stronger than ever over the entire day. Tired, but never weak from the elevation loss/gain.

Be prepared: I freely admit that even with as many layers of clothes and rain coats I brought with me, I was not fully prepared for the resulting cold and rain. Had it not been for my crew, a waterproof rain coat and gloves my race would have likely ended in a DNF. Never take the Arizona elements for granted.

Race report: Tahoe Rim Trail 100

The Shadows of Doubt

There is never a great time to train for a 100-miler. It takes time, a commitment to early mornings and a huge sacrifice by your family. Well, what happens when you/they don't have that time to give?

You honestly just do the best you can.

The final 6 weeks heading into my training for the Tahoe Rim Trail 100 would be spent traveling and floating through this quasi-vacation-drinking-beer-eating-ice-cream-mode while visiting family and friends in North and South Dakota. Don't get me wrong, I had been running consistently (shorter distances) and focusing on leg workouts during the week, but the prospect of getting out for long-runs was a sad combination of laziness, humidity and the previous nights beer consumption.

I felt strong but a little rusty given that my last ultra-distance was almost 4 months prior on a very flat course.

As I lined up to start my hundred mile TRT journey, I couldn't help think of the many things working against me that day:

• A new, unproven nutrition "strategy"
• A single 20-mile long run over that 6 weeks
• A forgotten Garmin (yes, I left it at the hotel)
• A shit-ton of climbing and descending (18,000'+)
• Being above 9,000' (with no elevation training)

I'm not the kind of person that freaks out about this stuff though. I go with the flow...and that's exactly what I planned to do.

The First 50

The start of every race is an exciting rush of the unknown. Yea you watch the videos and read everyone's race report but there's nothing ever quite like putting your feet on the trail and feeling the air thin as you ascend into the mountains. I was just excited to be there and taking in the experience.

A blessing and a curse. Great for mileage and aid, bad for seeing what lies ahead!

My strategy was simple - hold a conservative pace (i.e., hike a ton), eat often and don't take any risks.

Well, you know how strategies go sometimes...

As expected, I hiked most of the ups but didn't realize the rest of the course would be in such great condition and a perfect grade for running. There are a couple steep sections (Red House loop is the only mental scar I have) but for the most part you can expect to confidently run quite a bit of this course.

I would have loved to stop more often to take pictures - the altitude, landscapes, blooming flowers and the Lake Tahoe-filled-horizon were indeed breathtaking - it's one of the many reasons I love being able to power my adventures with my own two feet.

It turns out that my pace estimates and crew guidance were complete shit. Despite not having my Garmin and experiencing a bit of nausea above 9,000' I was fueling well and making good time. How good? I arrived at the 50K mark (Diamond Peak) almost 3 hours ahead of my projections. [Strava link]

The shitty part about that was I had no crew waiting for me. I wouldn't see them again until mile 50 and they had my Garmin...

Without wasting much time or energy at Diamond Peak I psyched myself up for this supposed-son-of-a-bitch-climb out of the aid station. I overheard someone tell their runner as I was leaving, "Don't worry, it will be easier the second time". As I slogged up those 2 miles I kept thinking to myself, how the fuck is this going to be easier with 80 miles on my legs?!

After climbing that ski slope and turning around to enjoy the view of Lake Tahoe, I realized that I had a pretty good shot about being half-way done in just over 13 hours. This was a bit more aggressive than I expected but I was more excited that it would leave me 21-22 hours to do the loop again.

Somewhere before Diamond Peak

Leaving the Snow Peak aid station however, it was clear to me that the downhill portion of this race was taking its toll on my knees. There aren't enough lunges in the world you can do during training to help your knees from the constant downhill pounding. Good thing the last 5.5 miles are all downhill [sarcasm]!

I would arrive at the 50-mile mark just about 7 pm. The aid station was a huge party with runners and crew all over the place...

The Last 50

I took a chair in the medical area to have a couple blisters on my left foot attended to. After what seemed like an eternity, a medic finally came over and started cleaning, lancing and taping my toes. The funny part is that I changed my left sock and kept my right one on (if it ain't broke, don't fix it!).

Soda, grilled cheese, Ramen soup, jacket, headlamp, more soda, cold quesadillas and a change of clothes topped the priority list as darkness began to fall at Spooner Lake. GG and I would take off for the final 50 miles and disappear into the night.

I was able to ice my knees at the aid station too. It was one of those things that seemed like a good idea at the time but turns out it literally crippled me leaving that 50-mile aid station.

GG: "Let's try and run this flat section"
Trevor's knees: "Screw off."

GG: "Can we run now?"
Trevor's knees: "No. Screw off."

GG: "Are we going to walk all night?"
Trevor's knees: "Yes. So screw off."

30 miles. All night. Through the dust. Through the windy ridge-lines. Power-hiking the ups and gingerly walking all the downs.

It's funny looking back and thinking about all the excuses I was trying to make to drop out of the race...
"...my knees hurt"
"...I don't want to walk another 50 miles"
"...I don't want to chase cut-offs"
"...I don't want to eat any more gels"
"...I'm choking on all the dust"

After voicing a few of these to GG over the course of a couple hours, he finally shut me down with some simple math.

"Look" he said. "You have 21 hours to go 50 miles. Even if you walked at 3 miles an hour, you'll be done in about 17 hours."

It was basically his way of saying, "Shut up. Quit whining and do the work." That's what pacers and crew are for I guess. (I still called him a dick under my breath...)

There's always a point in these races where the mind shifts though - what seems impossible, becomes possible. Where improbable becomes probable. "I can't" changes to "I WILL". I needed reasons to get through the dark and dreary times...

I knew GG needed this training run.
I knew LP and MK were waiting at Diamond Peak.
I was missing my son's birthday.
I added up how much I spent to get here.

Dawn would break about the same time I got back into the Diamond Peak aid station for the second time. Cold, tired and already dreading that long climb up the ski slope, I would pick up a new pacer (LP), some delicious pancakes and hot chocolate.

I threw out a few hints that dropping at 80 miles wouldn't be the worse thing in the world but the funny thing about experienced crew and pacers is that they just laugh and ignore you. My friends are assholes :-)

Who drops after 80 miles though?!

Want to hear something funny?! That climb up the ski slope WAS easier the second time. Granted, it was earlier in the day but LP and I completely crushed that 2 miles and were well on our way to the finish. Now, the only thing left to face was the downhills...

[side bar]
If you have the chance to have a woman pace you at the end of a race, I highly recommend it! I love lady pacers...but probably not for the reasons you think.
:-)
As a dude, that pride kicks in. You don't want to look wimpy or like a total d-bag. So you suck it up. Ladies also have a wonderful way of nurturing and ass-kicking at the same time so that you feel good about being in pain. Having a strong woman in your corner is just the best.
[end side bar]

LP took such great care of me - checking in, creating some chit-chat and even taking pictures/video during our 20 miles together. Her energy and newness to the event was really infectious and kept me power-hiking those hills and starting to run the final 10 miles. We cumulatively spent maybe 10 minutes in the last 4-5 aid stations. Grabbing gels, water and enough of the excitement to propel us forward.

Leaving the final aid station felt glorious. Partly because I pounded 5 Ensure fruit smoothies, but I knew it was in the bag at that point. I just had to make it another 7-ish miles down the hill and along the lake into the finish.

Of course my attitude improved despite the pain in my knees getting worse...I ignored it all. I shut my brain down and ran as best I could...

Blisters on top of blisters.
Short liner rubbing.
Reactivated sunburn.
More. Stinger. Chews.

Those are probably the longest 5 miles I've ever run. But we did it. With plenty of time to spare. We arrived to cheering kids at the Spooner Summit water station...it was awesome to have such energy at the end.

We would walk in the final 1.5 miles to the finish (yes, I ran/hobbled the final 0.2 into the chute) to find GG, MK and the rest of the crew cheering me to the finish. [Strava link]

It was glorious to finally sit down, take off my shoes and pound some real calories.

Finished

This race was always a bucket list race for me. The prestige, scenery and pure challenge made it a destination that I'm so-so happy to have experienced and finished. I'm forever in debt to GG, LP, MK, my family and wife for allowing me to traipse across the wilderness for 33 hours.

I would highly recommend that any ultra-runner put this destination on their list. Whether for the 55k, the 50-miler or the 100-miler it truly is one of THE best races I've done. The volunteers, organization and amenities are truly the best.

I'm sad (and relieved) however to say that don't have any more 100-milers in me. Like a fighter gracefully accepting retirement after the main event or a quarterback stepping down after an illustrious career, I know that it's time to be done with this distance.

It's part physical but it's also priorities and money. Time away from family and the money it takes to earn a buckle is incredibly selfish. I have new friends, great memories and love the idea of helping others achieve these same goals but I need to make room for other things.

By no means am I done running or participating in this amazing community...I just don't need to do any more 100-milers. They hurt.

Gear

In case you're wondering what got me through this race:

• Shoes: Altra Olympus 3.0 (first 50 mi), HOKA Sinson 3 (second 50 mi)
• Shorts: Brooks
• Shirts: INKnBURN, Brooks, Nike Pro Combat compression
• Socks: Injinji mid-weight trail
• Nutrition: 4,000 Stinger chews, Humu/Stinger/Clif gels, Bonk Breakers
• Other stuff: Glide, Base Performance electrolytes and Garmin Fenix 3 watch.

#TRT100 crew, pacers and friends

Redemption at Old Pueblo

It's a fair statement to say that I've had Old Pueblo on the brain for the greater portion of 3 years now. After a DNF in 2014 (yes, the year of epic flooding), I would have raced in 2015 but sat sidelined with an injury. Fortunately, I was allowed to roll my registration over to this year and the time had come to dance with the devil that had dented my spirit.

First, let me just say that I wasn't thrilled with the course changes. I caught wind that one of the mining companies had reactivated their claim along the course and rendered the roads/trails as private property.  Sometimes these things are inevitable so there's no use crying over it - but the idea of running 2 loops of the same course for 50 miles didn't really get me excited. I decided to let it slide knowing that the weather conditions were expected to be awesome (e.g., warm and no rain!).

Course location

Loop 1

What started as an unusually warm morning at Kentucky Camp (high 40's?) would make for ideal running conditions for this first loop. The sun crested the mountains of Coronado National Forest at about 7 am highlighting the faint dusting of snow still present on Mt. Wrightson off in the distance. A reminder of how awkward the temperatures and weather can be in this part of Arizona.

Without much fanfare, we would follow the jeep roads for a fair portion of the first loop. Granted, there were sections of the course that hopped onto the Arizona Trail but in summary, I'd venture to say that the course is 3/4 Forest Service roads and 1/4 Arizona Trail. Here's some pros and cons I contemplated during my time out on the course:

Forest Service Roads

1. Easy to follow, minimal marking required
2. Very smooth in quite a few places
3. Very rocky in quite a few places
4. Easy to get into a rhythm on long stretches
5. Minor ATV traffic, some campers in case you get into trouble

Arizona Trail

1. Best views of the course (especially after Melendrez Pass)
2. 95% of it is pristine, runnable single track
3. Remote sections were overgrown with grass and cat's-claw (ouch!)

Course profile with aid station locations (approximate)

In summary, my first loop felt great as the temperatures started to rise. Soaking in the newness of the course, I was being somewhat aggressive with the climbs and taking advantage of ALL the downhill and/or flat sections of the course. I found myself running A LOT! There were a couple climbs that gave me pause but for the most part, they're short-lived and immediately provide a welcome downhill or flat stretch to regain your composure.

If memory serves, I would return back to Kentucky Camp just after 11 am to replenish my pack, get spritzed with sunblock (again) and head out for my second lap.

Loop 2

All morning I had been plagued with what I can only describe as an elevation headache. It wasn't bad nor was it debilitating but it was there...a dull pressure at my left temple. Just annoying enough to make me doubt my stamina and whether I could keep going. It's a looong 9 miles to the first aid station leaving Kentucky Camp - especially after a marathon. I would fill my pack with ice and water to make sure I could arrive at Melendrez Pass in one piece.

In case you're wondering, a pack full of ice and water at elevation after 25 miles on a 2% incline feels like it weighs 50 pounds. I might have been wheezing for a while but eventually, I got used to the additional weight and started to get into a solid rhythm.

Now I'm not going to lie - it was warm out. Was it blistering hot? No...but warm enough that hydration was an issue for some folks. For perspective, I was going through 2 liters of water every 6 miles...and went pee once.

It wasn't until I got to the Gardner Canyon aid station did I realize that I would be close to finishing around the 11-hour mark. Right as I was leaving this aid station, a volunteer mentioned I was in 8th place...and the 7th place runner was about 2-3 minutes ahead of me. Anyone that knows me will tell you that yes, I'm naturally competitive - more with myself than anything (or anyone). I left that final aid station with the notion that finishing around 11 hours would be a great goal.

So I ran.

I ignored my blisters.

I downed one last gel.

I focused on the finish line.

Eventually, that 7th place runner would come into sight. I felt like I was gliding over the final stretch of jeep trail leading down to the final turn onto the Arizona Trail that would deliver me home to Kentucky Camp. Words of encouragement were exchanged as I passed him - not a primary goal, but a welcome boost of satisfaction. Looking at my watch, it would still be very close if I wanted to finish under 11 hours (notice how that goal changed!).

Turning on the Arizona Trail, it was everything I could do to quell my anticipation and the need to see those Kentucky Camp buildings. A comfortable run turned into a full 10-minute-per-mile-sprint :) Crew started to dot the side of the trail and I knew I was getting closer. Applause and cow-bells rang out as I closed in on the final 1/4 mile. Of course it's rocky and uphill but I didn't let that deter me. Still sprinting and pumping my arms, I shouted and rejoiced as I glimpsed the race clock - 10:59:19.

Had I fiddled with a gate or stopped to tie my shoe, those precious seconds and a sub-11 time would have passed me by. Funny how those things work...

Catching my breath...

Teen angst

Happy to be done!

The vibe of the race was different this year. RD Bob Bachini has raised the bar and made some impressive changes. While I initially poo-poo'ed the 2-loop course, it is logistically safer and pretty darn predictable for everyone. The swag was way too generous (2 pint glasses and 2 t-shirts?!) and the aid stations/volunteers were top-notch. Thank you to all who made this a successful race.

"That's what I'm talking about!"
7th overall, 3rd AG

Thanks for everyone who supported me along the way and my wife who let's me spend the entire day traipsing about in the mountains...for fun :)

The golden rules of ultra-running

I was going to blog about what an amazing time I had with GG pacing him a the Bear 100 this weekend but simply by the fact that he crossed that line with time to spare is all you really need to know about how well I did my job :-)

GG finishes the Bear 100 in 35:37

The more relevant topic here is just how he managed to knock out his second 100-miler despite all the things the Bear threw at him. If you're looking to do your first ultra - whether it's a 50k or 100 miler - here are all the things that need to happen to ensure you cross that finish line.

1. Pace yourself from the start. Don't go out too fast just because you're feeling good. This may be common sense but how many times have you ignored it? The right pace feels like one you could run all day.
2. Get your calories. Don't get behind, ever. Early in the race, you should be able to keep track of when you ate last...I recommend eating 150-200 calories every 30 minutes. If you pick up a pacer, make sure they keep track of this.
3. Stay mentally strong. It's easy to let the heat, pain, stomach issues or fatigue get you down. Realize that you're going to fall into the pain-cave a multitude of times...and then figure out a strategy for crawling out and keeping your composure.
4. Don't trust your race to anyone but yourself. You undoubtedly will encounter 'race veterans' or previous finishers who offer advice and guidance on the course or their interpretation of its difficulty. Take it all with a grain of salt. Trust your own judgement (or your pacers), execute your plan and always assume the worst. Otherwise, you could find yourself missing a cut-off or finish because of some else's poor lack of judgement.
5. Take care of your bits and pieces. Experience will teach you that certain shorts chafe after 20 miles or that certain shoes give you blisters on the down hills. Take the opportunity whenever possible to address your pieces-parts or they will make your race feel even longer. If you have to change, then do it. Re-apply Glide as much as humanly possible...you don't need any more physical pain than what the mileage is already providing!

Plodding up *another* hill

Finally, make sure you either have an experienced pacer with you OR you have clear instructions for your crew/pacer(s) on what you need and when you need it. Likewise, do what your pacer says. If your pacer says eat, you eat. If your pacer says run, you run. No questions. No bitching.

Now it's tough to say what other variables you may face...weather being one. Even still, be prepared and follow the rest of the rules above and you're sure to give it hell just like GG did.

The fire is still alive

Post-MOG100. Even Hobbit feet look better than this.

A month has passed since epic sh*t went down at the Mogollon Monster 100 and my body is still reminding me that as an ultra-runner, the path to healing is never an easy one. For example:

1. The foot-pads on both feet are blistering and coming off. They are the size of Texas.
2. My ankle is still tender from where my shoes push and rub.
3. My lower back flares up after a run of any significant distance.
4. We are grieving the loss of one toenail.

Yet, despite all these issues, I went out to the Javelina Jundred race this weekend to do some pacing with old and new friends. I was ready to have some fun and log some miles despite all the issues and pain it might require.

In Ragnar-style, I ran 15 miles Saturday evening with Greg and was prepared to run 25 more early Sunday AM after getting 3-4 hours of sleep in my car. Not ideal but entirely possible.

Turns out, the additional miles were not necessary but I was already fired up from all the runners, finishers and their stories of tragedy and triumph. It seeps in and is nearly impossible not to get jacked up on the energy and idea of actually running the race yourself.

I know I committed to take some time off. My beer and crappy food intake over the last 3 weeks have been more than enough validation of that endeavor. But it's getting harder and harder to ignore that fire in the belly and wondering, is that indigestion or another 100-miler begging for my attention? Maybe some of both but I do know I'm going to need a race to train for soon.

Mogollon Monster 100 Race Report

Three weeks prior to the race, I had gone up to Pine for a training run with a buddy. We navigated many of the Mogollon Monster trails and climbed many of the same climbs I would face on race day. We put in a meager 25 miles and my legs were trashed, my lungs on fire (from the altitude) and my shins raw from all the thorny bushes covering the Highline Trail. If you had asked me then how I felt about the race, my abilities and my level of confidence, I would have given myself a 30-50% chance of finishing.

Jump ahead a couple weeks.

I honestly did not have the time to stress over this race or feverishly study the maps like I normally do (due to the loss of a close personal friend). It wasn't until Wednesday before the race that I started to think about the course and mentally prepare for the possible 36 hours I'd be spending on my feet.

The evening before the race, Jon and I were discussing logistics at our cabin. Despite my seemingly uncoordinated and thoughtless race plan, I was enveloped with a aura of confidence about the race. It's difficult to describe...I wasn't being cocky or arrogant, but I just felt like this race was going to go well. I could already see myself crossing the finish line but I honestly couldn't tell you why I was feeling this way. It just felt right.

Straying from my traditional race report, I decided to list out the memorable moments from the race rather than taking you through each aid station (honestly, I don't remember some of them!)

• The acapella Leann Rimes version of the national anthem is amazing.

  

  Descending Turkey Springs
  (courtesy of AP Photography)

• The view descending Turkey Springs was breathtaking. (Just don't gawk while descending - it will end badly)
• Between Geronimo and Washington Park, I remember thinking to myself, "No way I want to do Zane Grey..."
• Where's my crew chief?!
• JohnV gives a great neck and shoulder massage (Houston Bros. A/S)
• Houston Brothers trail has got to be the most wonderful trail in all of Arizona.
• My knees feel like they're going to explode descending into Washington Park. (How am I going to do this again?!)

  

  Coming into Washington Park
  (courtesy of Michael Miller)

• Sitting next to a heat lamp eating a grilled cheese sandwich and trying to change my socks at the same time. Multi-tasking = fail!
• JonN begins pacing duties and we begin the daunting stretch to Buck Springs (via Myrtle). Very little running during this stretch...
• We catch up to Tawnya and spend several hours navigating the 'grasslands' with her. Nice gal, mother of 5 reveling in the fact that she's out here and her husband has the kids all weekend (insert maniacal laugh!)
• Holy crap the climb up Myrtle sucks! Covered in grass and 2 feet away from the edge of the rim makes for a slow and scary climb.
• It's really cold on top of the rim (was that sweat or snot dripping down my face?)
• Back to Houston Brothers at about 5 am. NoahD gives a great neck and shoulder massage as well.
• Sunrise while running down the Rim Rd - spectacular.
• The lyrics of 'Lose Yourself' (Eminem) playing over and over in my mind:

"Here I go it's my shot, feet fail me not...this may be the only opportunity I've got. Success is my only mutha-f*ckin' option. Failure's not."

• MaryK waits patiently to pace me the last 20 miles (goodbye Washington Park!)
• Want to know what you're really made of? Climb Webber after 95 miles.
• Descent down Donahue - first time I've ever felt like my legs were actually made of Jell-O.
• I was waiting for the lights to come on in the tunnel and for it to start spinning
• My son and daughter waiting for me 20 yards from the finish line - "Daddy, let's race..."

33:37 - 14th place overall

Couldn't have done it without these two!

Thanks to my wife and kids for all their support. Love you!

Of the race, I will tell you 3 things:

1. You will not find a race director who is more insanely passionate about the course, the participants and showcasing this beautiful area of the Mogollon Rim to ensure this is the best race you will ever experience. It's top notch and should be on your list for 2014.
2. Some folks talk about graduate-level trail races. These trails, combined with the distance and climbing, requires a Ph.D. It is nothing short of hard. Expect to find out what you're really made of.
3. Some folks believe that the Mogollon Monster is a legend. By just toeing the line, you too become a part of that legend. Finish under 36 hours and you become legendary...