MMT or Grindstone: Which is Tougher?

Virginia is home to many exciting and popular ultramarathons. With the frenzy of new races every year, there is always a general curiosity as to which are the toughest. Virginia is also home to some well known 100 mile ultras, including two of the toughest east of the Rockies. There's the Massanutten Mountain Trails 100 (MMT), and the Grindstone 100. So which is tougher? Ask around and you'll get arguments from both sides supporting one, or the other as the toughest. 100 mile phenom Neal Gorman has shared his insights, from an elite's perspective, on his blog Trails and Tales. As both of these races have increased in popularity, the debate is being tossed around in even more conversations. Well, here's my take.

Based on stats alone you would automatically assume MMT is the easier race. Here's how they size up.

MMT- Elevation gain 16,200 ft. 103.7 miles. Course record(on current course) 18:18. 81.3% trails, 16.6% dirt roads, 1.7% paved. Average finish time: 31 hours. Cutoff: 36 hours. 4am start. Temps: 60-90 F

Grindstone- Elevation gain 23,200 ft. 101.86 miles. Course record(on current course) 17:13. Mostly single track and some fire roads and pavement. Average finish time: 30 hours. Cutoff 38 hours. 6pm Friday start. Temps: 40-75 F

My anwser is two sided. Bear with me. I believe Grindstone is a harder race for slower runners, and MMT is harder for faster runners. The average times are roughly an hour faster at Grindstone, eventhough the cutoff is two hours more. How can that be? I think it's because slower runners must run through two nights at Grindstone and only one at MMT. Though not as technical, running even moderately rugged trails is slower at night, than in the day. The sleep deprivation factor is also worse, and the slowest runners will actually be slower at Grindstone then at MMT. Thus, the additional two hour cutoff. The time gap between the middle of the pack and the back of the pack at Grindstone is about seven hours, while the same gap between pace groups is roughly four hours at MMT. Therefor, Grindstone is the tougher race for the slowest runners.

MMT hurts faster runners mostly due to the extreme technical nature of the course. The photo to the above left is a small sample of what the rest of the course looks like. It doesn't matter if you can run a 2:30 marathon, no amount of speed will get you over those rocks any faster. At MMT, it largely comes down to how long you can keep moving forward after your feet have taken a days worth of beating. Often, it's not the super fast runners that win MMT, but rather the fast ones who have enough conditioning and will power to keep at it for hours and hours over those relentless rocks. At Grindstone the fastest runners get to finish in the daylight, including many sections towards the end that are semi technical. Not only are these folks faster to begin with, but they benefit from being able to see the trail better, and thereby making it more runnable for themselves. Typically, the night portion of a 100 mile race is mentally the toughest for all runners. So having it come at the beginning of Grindstone can be easier, but not for those who know they will be enduring a mind draining second sunset. Slower runners are already limited to the visibility of their lights, and at MMT depth perception at night is even harder with the rocks.

But, what about Grindstone's climbs? Facts are facts. Grindstone has 7,000 more feet of gain, and quad busting descent than MMT. However, these climbs are sometimes spread out over several miles, thereby making them runnable for faster runners, and long power hikes for everyone else. Still, I believe it's quicker to power hike uphill for 3 miles at Grindstone, than having to tip toe through MMT's rock gardens regardless of whether it's uphill, downhill, or flat. Grindstone, without a doubt, will bust up your quads and have you dreading anything downhill after 60 miles. Yet, even if you chose to walk at Grindstone, your walking speeding would still be faster than at MMT. Even if you aren't capable of running the climbs at Grindstone, people who are very good climbers (aka Donna Utakis) would excel, whereas at MMT even their exceptional climbing ability would be negated once the course leveled out. MMT's rocks simply negate everything you could do faster on less technical trails.

Cumulative body damage. Once again, MMT's rocks deliver a double whooping. They slow you down AND they abuse your body. Grindstone trashes quads, but MMT has a special way of causing agony in a rare way most other races cannot. Ankle twists, pointy rocks, falls, cuts, and bruises are all part of the race of attrition. The potential to get royally jacked up is higher at MMT, and the odds that you'll suffer any of these gems is likely for any speed runner. You will probably run a higher percentage of MMT feeling beat up than at Grindstone.

Let's not forget the weather either. Grindstone's early October date usually yields rather pleasant and ideal race conditions. Typically runners might get a chilly night in the 40's and highs in the 70's at daytime. They are running in the cold, more than in the sun. MMT, however, is notorious for it's shifty weather patterns. They've had hail, severe storms, and temperatures that could be anywhere from 50 degrees to over 90 and humid. You might even experience all of these conditions during the same race. Due to the unpredictable weather, you might get caught off guard with soaked clothing and shoes. Also, at MMT, runners often have to deal with longer gaps between aid stations during the hottest parts of the day. During the "hottest" parts of Grindstone you have aid every 5-7 miles, not 8-10. Managing your gear and logistics is probably trickier at MMT.

Neal Gorman stated, Grindstone may be a tougher race, but MMT is a tougher course. That's an idea I mostly agree with, though I will reiterate my belief Grindstone is disproportionately tougher for the back of the pack runner, and MMT is disproportionately tougher for the speedsters. Ironically, Neal ran nearly identical times at both races, which would suggest they are equal. Neal was more "relaxed" towards the end of Grindstone due to 2nd place being almost 50 minutes back, whereas he was chasing Karl Meltzer for most of the first 60 miles at MMT. Overall, however, I will say that MMT is indeed the tougher event to experience.

Coincidently, Karl Meltzer owns both course records on the current courses. In regards to why the course record is slower at Grindstone, I'd say it's because Karl was never challenged at that race, and ended up running most of it fairly conservatively. Well, not in the same way he would have run with someone nipping at his heels. Grindstone has also not been around long enough to see the same caliber of runners MMT has, though that should change in the next few years. When Karl won MMT last year, he was not being chased the last 30 miles. Though in 2006, on a different version of the MMT course, Karl broke 18 hours chasing Sim Jae Duk who ran 17:40. He did that on possibly a tougher course(back when it still had over 18,000ft of gain). Realistically, I think if Grindstone had at least three elites competing for most of the day, we might see times in the mid to low 17 hour range.

So, there you have it. MMT edges out Grindstone, in my humble silly opinion, as the tougher race. The reality is that both are tough races, and if you really want to find out for yourself, the best way is to run them!

(Photos courtesy of Rob Dolan and Chet White)

2011 Grindstone 100: A pacer's narrative

This past Saturday I had the pleasure of pacing my friend Zsuszanna Carlson at the rugged and wild Grindstone 100. In this story, I'll refer to Zsuszanna by her nickname, simply "Z", because no matter what, I always mispell her name. Anyway, I had offered to pace her several weeks before the race, but didn't confirm actually pacing until two days prior. I was more than happy to oblige. This was my second time pacing at Grindstone, and one of many times running with my friend Z.

The objectives were quite simple. Pick up Z at mile 66, North River, and run with her to the finish. When your runner arrives after 66+ miles of mountain running through the night, you're never quite sure what you're gonna get. A number of the runners coming into the aid station looked sleep deprived, haggard, weary on trashed quads, you name it. Could you really blame them? Would Z be joining the ranks of the walking dead? Initial word was that she was 4th, or 5th female, and running very close to our local friend, and strong runner, Kerry Owens. This was good news, but news that, at this point, may be several hours old. Then just around noon, Kerry pops out of the woods and seconds later there's my friend Z. Z is the fourth female and looking energized, but she is also 15 minutes off her time splits from last year. In 2010, Z was fourth female in 29:40. Would today be the same?

Z doesn't stay at the aid station long and pretty soon we are off to conquer the final 35 miles. The fall weather is as lovely as you could ask for. It was cool in the morning, but near 70's in the day. A perfect temperature to be outside, yet for the tired runners it came as an exausting wave of heat. At times like this even the beauty of your surroundings can't dull out the growing pain and fatigue. We climb to the ridgeline with Kerry, but pull away nearing Lookout Mountain at mile 72. Several runners have dropped at the aid station, including the first female. Z is in 2nd place! Another quick in and out, and soon enough we are making our three mile descent into Dowells Draft. This is where Kerry finally passed us for good, and would charge on to become 2nd female. Z's quads are shot, blisters are hurting, and the relentless pounding is taking it's toll. Our goals now are to beat last year's time and maintain a top 3. I know what she is feeling, but I also know what it will take for her to reach her goals. We talk about life, relationships, running, and so on. Talking is the most I can do to keep her focused off the pain, but we gotta keep moving.

Mile 80 comes and goes, and then a long climb up Crawford Mountain. It is late in the day, but the remaining sunlight keeps it warm on the exposed southwest ridges. 87 miles done. The sunlight fades away and the chill of the evening approaches. Z is looking strong and determined. We shift from fleeting moments of goofy song singing to silent focus. Z is tough, but even so she reminds me how much she is hurting. The miles roll on, but don't we know how far back the next female is, and with ten miles to go, Z is very close to her projected finish from last year. We don't want to finish in the same time, we want to beat it. The night brings cold, but the climbs bring heat. It's an on and off battle to regulate body temperature and to keep moving forward.

The moon is about two thirds full and casting shadows along the trail. Then there's the occasional bobbing of headlamps in the distance and the quick small talk as runners pass eachother in the quiet night. Though it breaks the monotony to see other runners, there's always the fear that one is a female contesting for a top 3. We hear a female voice. What? It turns out the female is a pacer for a male runner. Z is still 3rd. The time gaps between these short interactions are a little reminder of how isolated you really are on the mountain. We arrive at Elliot Knob and make the final descent of the race. Z's quads are thrashed, and after 95 miles of ups and downs, this one hurts the most. The lights from the town below are a welcome site that make us feeling like we are finally in the home stretch. However, Z is still running, and trying to break 29:40. It will be close.

We spot tents in the woods, and smell the odor of recently extinguished camp fires. We are very close to Camp Shenandoah, and we are now 1.5 miles from the finish. Z has 29 minutes to cover 1.5 miles to set a personal best. With this knowledge she starts walking. "Z, you gotta run this! Any mistake, and we don't break 29:40" I urge her not to cut too close, though we are so near to the finish. It doesn't help either that the trails are sparsely marked, and it is very dark. A wrong turn would be easy to do. Z is now running with all her might. We make our way around the lake. There's only a half mile to go! What a sight to behold. The clear night sky, a bright autumn moon reflecting off the lake, and then there's Z running her heart out. Truly a majestic backdrop for an inspiring finish. We enter into the camp, and from 100 yards away we can see the finish clock. It is 11:31pm, and Z has finished her second Grindstone 100 in a personal best time of 29:31. She also finishes as the 3rd female. I simply stand back and watch my tired friend enjoy her accomplishment. I am proud of Z, and thankful to be part of her journey.

Ultramarathon Hall of Fame. Who would be in it?

I found myself daydreaming during a hike the other day about an ultramarathon hall of fame. Most sports have one, and actually many non sport related careers and industries have them. So, hypothetically, what if ultrarunning had one? There is an American Ultrarunning Hall of Fame, but as far as I know there isn't a general one for the entire sport. Setting aside the formalities of what governing body would decide, or what is considered an ultra, here's who I think would make the list. You'll notice it's mostly an American roster, largely due to the fact those are the only names I am familiar with, but we all know many other countries have produced amazing ultramarathoners.

For starters, I suppose in order to be "qualified" of a hall of fame type "career", there should be some longevity, records, contribtuions, and overall success in the world of distance running over 26.2 miles. Of course, many of these folks are still competitive today, but I'd probably consider runners whose careers pre date the last five years. Perhaps prior to 2006, which, for the time being, would probably rule out current elites like Geoff Roes, Tony Krupicka, and Killian Jornet. Just an example.

The hypothetical Ultrarunning Hall of Fame class of 2011

Yiannis Kouros- the big kahuna
Ann Trason- the best female ever
Terry Fox- though he never formally ran ultras
Ted Corbitt
Sandra Kiddy
Marcy Schwam
Bernd Heinrich
Tim Twietmeyer
Stu Mittleman
Allan Kirik
Barney Klecker
Oleg Kharitonov- HOF performance, 11:28 100 mile world record. It should be noted that a 14 hour 100 was done in 1934 by Arthur Newton who set the bar for the distance.
Scott Jurek
John Geesler
Roy Pirrung
Sue Ellen Trapp
Chad Ricklefs
Bruce Fordyce
Dennis Herr
Karl Meltzer
Nikki Kimball
Howard Nippert
Carl Anderson
Valmir Nunez
Matt Carpenter
Arnulfo Quimare
Dean Karnazes- the guy everyone loves to hate
Eric Clifton
David Horton
Pam Reed
Mike Morton
Kami Semick
Courtney Campbell

Potential HOF'ers: Annette Bednosky, Anne Lundblad, Anita Ortiz, Hal Koerner, David Goggins, Monica Scholz, Dave Mackey.

It'll be interesting to see who is still running in ten years, as the sport really seemed to explode in the mid 2000's. With so many talented runners, I wonder how many will be quick 3-5 years stars, and who will stick around for a while?

The Great Debate: Kenyans, Ultras, and Who's the greatest?

-Geoffrey and Geoff, and their two big course records

I was asked the other day who had won the legendary Western States 100 miler. The same person also asked "was it a Kenyan?". I chuckled, and said "no, it was actually a Spaniard. Kenyans don't run ultramarathons." I've actually heard quite a few people assume that since Kenyans and Ethiopians are basically the fastest road runners in the world, that the same folks must be winning all the ultras. It often surprises my friends who don't have the "ultra inside scoop" that many of our races are won by north American runners, often with cool beards, long hair, and normal day jobs.

The main debate is that the best ultrarunners may not be faster than marathoners, but in a 50-100 mile race they would still win. Notice I'm not talking about 50k's because it's only 5 miles longer than a marathon(yes mountains would make it tougher). However, when Josh Cox set the 50k American record he simply ran a 2:18 marathon and tacked on 5 miles at a track to finish in 2:47. He recently went after the world record doing the same thing and came very close with a 2:43. No doubt impressive, but there are guys who could do it 10 minutes faster if the money was there. Ultimately, given the same training, I say the top marathoners crush our ultra elites Roes, Krupicka, and Jornet. Here's why.

The ultrarunner supporters believe that even the best ultra guys and gals would still beat the fastest road marathoners. Consider how Tony Krupicka, Hal Koerner, Geoff Roes, and others largely dominate road guys like Michael Wardian. Wardian, who btw wins plenty of ultras, is a 2:17 marathoner, but still loses by hours to the other guys if the race is 100 miles and in the mountains. I agree that guys who train 150+ mpw in the mountains will have a much better chance at outrunning a faster road runner who trains 120 mpw on roads. Mountain runners have bodies that are simply more conditioned to go the distance with varying elements (such as extreme weather and geography).Tough terrain and vertical climb are the first things to negate a marathoner's raw speed. The second thing is that nutrition is vital in longer races. Elite marathoners can subside off a dozen cups of water, but they are completely spent when they cross the finish. Tweeking their nutrition plan so they can learn how to consume substantial calories, would be the difference in sustaining their pace through an ultra distance. The transition from 26.2 miles to 50 to 100 is tough, and obviously not every elite marathoner's body is designed to do it. However, those that do would clean house.

The bottom line is that elite marathoners have fewer variables other than air temperature. They often have a predictable running surface, minimal elevation change, and minimal time for weather to change since they are done within a couple hours. Tony Krupicka's 2:40,Koerner's 2:35, and Scott Jurek's 2:38 marathon personal bests would get scorched on a marathoner's familiar turf. However, I believe that once the fastest marathoner's start training like ultrarunners (ie eating while running, running trails with lots of vert) they would start to crush our current level elites. So, why aren't Kenyan's and Ethiopians running ultras?

Money! Ultras are low revenue events that more than likely provide no prize money. The few races that do have a cash prize, like the North Face, still only give out $10,000 to the winner at their national championships. Unlike many Americans who enjoy the "luxury" of the income their jobs earn, many 3rd world athletes will compete where the most money is. The Boston Marathon dishes out $150k, NYC $130k, and Chicago $125k. They can't support their families off belt buckles and medals. Perhaps if our ultramarathon athletes were in the same situation, they'd be training for the big bucks, but that really hasn't been the attitude of ultrarunners. Ultrarunning has always been very low key, laid back, and out of the spotlight. Sometimes it can't help be anything but out of the lime light. Afterall, how could you ever televise a mountain ultra? Where on the trail would sponsors put their logos, other than on the athletes already competing? You can't generate money when trails and national parks limit entry fields to 300-400 runners, unlike the big city marathons where you have 30,000 people paying $120 a piece to run. Ultramarathons simply aren't designed to draw a lot of income(ok, maybe the JFK 50 miler for $195). Imagine a 50 miler through NYC, and finding a tv station that would want to cover at least 5.5 hours worth of running just to see the winner finish! Too big of an investment risk.

Now let's suppose, hypothetically, that The North Face, or Montrail ever got to the point of tossing out a $100,000 cash prize. You still might not get THE fastest folks who don't want to risk injury by training, or racing an ultra, but you'd definitely get many others. Historically, the top ultra runners have been between 2:35 and 2:45 marathon speed. Seven time Western States winner Scott Jurek had a personal best of 2:38 when he was dominating ultras in the early 2000's. I think ultras are drawing more crossover runners who can't quite be competetive in big city marathons, but can win at ultras. I'm talking about guys like Matt Woods, David Riddle, Michael Arnstein, Matt Carpenter, Max King, Michael Wardian, Uli Steidel, Todd Braje, and others who are capable of anything from 2:14 to 2:30 marathons. Plenty fast, but not enough to win against guys running sub 2:10. Uli, Carpenter, and King have the most speed in the group (all sub 2:15 PR's), and all have adapted their training to suite ultras. If they can win ultras doing this, of course even faster folks would also be winning. So, you can see the allure of going to ultras where you could at least make a run for some victories/cash. Even the women are raising the bar. You've got 2:49 marathoner Ellie Greenwood, 2:53 Kami Semick and Jenn Shelton, all the way to low 2:40's Devon Crosby Helms. Very fast, but even they couldn't hang with the elite women dropping 2:20's.

It sounds crazy, but I think if the money was there, you'd see course records fall left and right. Western States would go from 15:07 to sub 14:30, JFK would drop to 5:30ish, and we'd see a bunch of 100 mile course records drop by hours. Imagine someone like Haile Gebrselassie making a move at Western States and dropping a 5:30 mile into Forest Hills, or setting a 2:25 marathon split at American River en route to a 5:15 course record (27 minutes under Krupicka's 5:42)? It would be crazy, but very plausible. I could be wrong, but the only reason guys like Roes, Mackey, and Jornet are winning ultras is because the money hasn't drawn in the big dogs yet. Would I even want ultras to become some mega marketed machine? I think it would destroy the character of the sport and take away many of the little things that make ultras so endearing. Ultras have always been about an individual journey to push beyond, and a place where first and last place received the same reward when crossing the finish. Maybe a 2:03 marathoner would fall apart trying to run more than 40-50 miles? Maybe not? There's no doubt that elite marathoners have amazing mental toughness to maintain sub 5 minute miles for 26 miles. But, there's a grit and toughness that a rare few have(marathoner, or ultrarunner) that keeps them relentlessly moving forward after 60,70, and 90 miles. That being said, I would still be rooting for my fellow ultra guys/gals to prove that being the best long distance runners means more than just being fast.

Squaw Valley to Auburn: Final Thoughts

This will be my last post concerning anything Western States until December. The lottery drawing for the 2012 race will ultimately determine my future with WS, though it seems back to back selections are very unlikely. Last years selection odds were 12:1, and assuming next year has more applicants, it would project a 13:1, or more ratio. Thus, being selected two years in a row seems something of at least a 100:1 chance. However, since I was already selected once, I suppose I am now back in the 12:1 odds pool with everyone else again :-)

Final thoughts on my 2011 race

Pacing: I didn't wear a watch, and obviously it would have helped nudge me to hit certain time goals. Going "old school" without a pacer, or crew didn't seem to bother me either, though a motivator late in the race may not have been bad. WS is a well stocked course, and I never felt like I was lacking anything I needed running solo. The volunteers pretty much are like an adopted crew team, but for family and friends who want to support their runner being on a crew is probably very rewarding, needed, or not.

Nutrition: My weight was never down more than 4 lbs, or up 2 lbs. In fact, beyond mile 55 (Michigan Bluff), I was within 1 lb of my pre-race weight. Bottom line, even without a watch I kept very good track of my liquid and calorie intake.

Pre race "training": I only trained 40 mpw leading up to WS. I also had a handful of slow 20-30 mile runs, but nothing fast. It would have been nice to toss in a few quick 4:30-5 hour mountain 50k's for training. Ideally, I would have aimed for 80+mpw, topping out at 100, but it wasn't in the cards this spring. Trying to be balanced with work, social life, and other hobbies made it tough to really want to dedicate so much time to running. There's always a trade off.

Performance at WS: Obviously, finishing any 100 is something to be proud of. Like they say "there's no such thing as an easy 100". WS certainly isn't an easy 100. My biggest physical setback during the WS run was clearly the deterioration of my left quad starting at mile 38. In a big race like WS, it's really demoralizing to know you have 62 more miles to run on a bum leg. I would have liked to have at least made it to Forest Hills (mile 62) feeling relatively fresh, but that was cut short by about 22 miles. Lack of training volume is probably to blame, as my muscles simply were not conditioned enough for runs longer than 40-50 miles. There were significant amounts of the course beyond mile 62 I knew I could have run. My time of 25:26 reflects the fact I kinda "walked it in" after I knew sub 24 was gone. I really believe if I spent a dedicated, and strict 3 months training specifically for the WS course, that I could run in the 21-22 hour range. But, that's easier said than done.

Post Race Recovery: There are only two other races I was more sore after finishing: my first 100, and my first ultra. My left quad was the primary culprit of my post race limping. My right quad was barely sore, calves fine, and ZERO blisters. I lost one toenail because of a rock I kicked, but at least it wasn't due to blisters. Had a bit of a bruise on my right foot from lacing my shoes too tight. At first I thought I may have broken a metatarsel, but the bruising and swelling has gone down a lot since the race. It's kind of funny, but my feet never really hurt during the race, mostly afterwards. My left quad is also feeling much better, which is a good sign that the pain I felt during WS was just a strain, and not a serious injury. Don't get me wrong, it still hurt a ton during the race, and going faster simply wasn't an option.

That's all I got to say about Western States until the next lottery drawing. Wouldn't it be crazy if I got selected again! I'm hoping next June I can enjoy the coolness of Squaw Valley and chuckle to myself saying "didn't think I'd be back here so soon." I'm looking forward for another chance at a silver buckle. Like a true runner, there's always a goal on the next horizon :-)

Western States 100 Race Report: Will versus Skill

June 25th, 2011

I’ve run nearly 100 miles, but I’m not there yet. Placer High School is just one left turn away and I can already hear the announcer calling out the names. Soon my foot hits the red surface of the famed track where it all began 38 years ago. 25 hours and 26 minutes after the epic journey started, it all comes down to a 300 meter run around a small local track. The sight of not seeing a sub 24 hour time light up the finish clock surprisingly has no impact on the excitement I have. I am now joining the ranks of 7,200 other runners who have come before. Others like Gordy Ainsleigh, Ken “Cowman” Shirk, Ann Trason, Scott Jurek, Tim Tweitmeyer, and Jim King. Our times may have been different, but for the most part we came to Auburn by the same path, the Western States Trail.

Flashback to 25 hours and 27 minutes ago.

It is 5am and 40 degrees. Today is all about running Western States old school. Running it in a way that would make the founding fathers proud. I have no watch, no crew, no pacer, and I only carry water bottles. I use only 2 drops bags, which only contained shoes, socks, and a headlamp. I am joined by 400 other anxious runners gathered in wild anticipation of will take place over the next 15 to 30 hours of their life. We are of many different ages, ethnicities, nations, religious beliefs, professions, physical abilities, income levels, and political affiliations. But, on this special morning, we are united together in a humbling moment of solidarity. We all dream and hope to conquer the next 100.2 miles and arrive in Auburn, California. The stories among the crowd are countless, and regardless of the events that unfolded in so many unique ways, they all brought us to this same time and place…...Squaw Valley.

The 2011 Western States starts! It’s a frenzy of excitement and pure electricity. Less than a mile up the first 2,550 ft climb to Emigrant Pass, elevation 8,750 feet, I take my first glance behind. Within moments my eyes well up on the verge of tears of what I am experiencing. It's a trail of 250 runners snaking down the dusty road behind me, their star like stream of bobbing headlamps, and the orange glow of an awakening sunrise over east Lake Tahoe. If it weren’t for the sound of my breathing, I’d have guessed I was still in a dream, only an alarm clock away from reality. But, it WAS real, and this fraction of a point in time was merely a sample of what lay ahead for the next 25 hours.

Over one hour later, and half mile of vertical climb, I am only 4 miles in. The view of the Sierra Nevadas from Emigrant Pass is as breathtaking as the wind is sharp. The dirt road became snow, and then snow became ice. We drop off the northwest face of the mountain, and now it’s time for the real fun to begin. I experience 15 miles of precarious running over snowy “trails” and icy mountain sides. My body endures dozens of spills, awkward shifts in the calf deep snow, and even more body cracking falls onto the rigid ice. One false move and you’ll slide down the mountain, pull a muscle, or lose the trail. It’s way too early to risk any of those things. The snow keeps things interesting and is a fun distraction from the distance we are covering. Soon enough 15 miles are in the bag, and we have 20 more miles of re-routed course to do. The trail becomes more runnable and dry, and I find myself with the enjoyable company of Jill Perry, Scotty Mills, and Monica Ochs. The fellowship is welcome, but we are running our own races, and after several miles I am running alone again.

30 miles are done, and I am making good time. Not going fast, but not going slow. Wait, what’s this climb coming up? The climb up to Mosquito Ridge (mile 31) is exposed, long, and worst of all unexpected. The new course threw me an early curve and I hit my first low point of the race. I am feeling sleepy from a lack of calories, sweating heavy, and wondering how I let myself get so worn out so early. I arrive at the aid station 4 lbs down from my pre-race weight of 157.6 lbs. 6 hours and 7 minutes have passed. I need food, cold water, and shade. The runners continue coming in with the same haggard look. Doubts start creeping in. Can I bounce back strong after being so depleted so soon? I still have 69 more miles, and there are two very tough climbs coming soon. “Mike, shut up!”. I eat enough to feel full, get some much needed liquids, and like magic I leap out of my chair ready to wage war again!

Devils Thumb and Michigan Bluff are usually brutal climbs for the unprepared, but I welcome them. Around Dusty Corners(mile 38), I started feeling something was a little off with my left knee. The inner part of my lower quad was feeling sore, but only on flat surfaces. I had been saving my legs by running much of the harsh downhill gently, so I doubted it was from that. I eased up the pace, fueled myself well, and powered through the two notorious climbs where my knee felt fine going uphill. It is now mile 55, over half way done, and I feel fresh. However, my left knee area is giving me some major cause for concern. The pain is now getting sharp, my legs goes a bit limp on each stride, and there is now swelling. I consider pain killer, but I don’t want to “mask” the pain of a potential injury, nor do I want to risk nausea and other potential bad side effects.

I continue on in growing discomfort and fear my day is turning for the worse. If only my left leg felt as fresh as my right, then I could be running pretty much everything right now. I settle for a power hike, and when it’s tolerable I switch to a jog. I had hoped to breeze through the famous Forest Hills crew area triumphantly, but instead I walk the entire mile long road in. I rest, prep for the final third of the race, and contemplate my strategy. 13 hours and 56 minutes have clicked by. After nearly 20 minutes I painfully make my way out of Forest Hills. My left vastus medialis (lower quad) is absolutely throbbing now. A 24 hour finish is slipping away and the doubts creep back into my weak willed mind. Could I have had a chance at a 21-22 hour finish if my leg weren’t hurt? Was it my lack of training? Am I not fit enough to be here? Did I gain too much weight strength training? Did the snow and ice earlier beat me up too much? Once again, I snap out of it and clear my thoughts.

I arrive at mile 65 and the sun is setting. I turn on my headlamp, shuffle along, and now 70 miles are done. I can’t believe I am literally watching my sub 24 hour goal vanish into thin air. I traveled 3,000 miles for this chance, and I’m not letting it go without a fight. That’s when I cave in and accept the offer for Tylenol. Like a wish granted from a genie the pain is gone within minutes. Over the next 15 miles I push hard. Too hard. At mile 78 I arrive at the Rucky Chucky river crossing and a large exuberant crowd. I am energized, and best of all feeling like a rock star! It is 11:13pm, my weight is exactly the same as when I started, and the short seated ride across the river was a welcome break. Miles 80 and 85 come and go. The three Tylenol I’ve taken over the last several hours begins to wear off and the extent of the self inflicted damage becomes obvious. I pushed well beyond what my left quad should have done, and now I was paying the price. The big effort put me back on sub 24 hour pace again, but it was too little too late. By mile 90 it was quite clear my body, even pain free, would not be able to cover the rocky terrain fast enough to break 24 hours. The quest for sub 24 is done, and I am okay with it. Why push hard, and risk becoming the first person to not break 24 hours? 24:15, 24:20, 24:30? None are worth the beating without the silver lining, which in this case is a buckle of the same color.

I have run 93.5 miles. I turn off my headlamp in the chilly night and soak in the pure darkness of the trail. There is a crescent moon gently hanging overhead, and the clearest blanket of stars you’ll ever see. The air is cool, clear, and pure. I take a deep breath, and look above to the Milky Way wrapping itself around the night sky from horizon to horizon. I could stay in this moment forever, but I have a finish line to get to.

The night time gives way to yet another warm glow of another sunrise. For some it is a blessed sign of a new day and a new push towards that finish, but for others it is a haunting reminder that precious time is running out. I trudge along past No Hands Bridge, then Robie Point. From here it is a mere 1.3 miles to Placer High School, and the finish!

25 hours and 26 minutes. 100.2 miles. One belt buckle. One runner. The journey is complete.

Western States is a race that was an honor to be a part of. The VOLUNTEERS absolutely make this race worth it. Every time I came into an aid station they treated myself and others as if we were the most important person in the race. Their goal was truly to get everyone to the finish. The history is unparalleled, and the organization first class. It was a once in a lifetime experience, but a once in a lifetime experience I will be trying to do again, and again, and again. 2011 will go down as the year I ran my 60th ultramarathon, but also as the year I completed my first Western States 100. If you asked the average person what a Cougar belt buckle is worth, they would say a few bucks. If you ask a runner at Placer Field how much a Cougar belt buckle is worth, they would say "Everything!".


Run strong friends,

Mike Bailey, 60 ultra finishes at age 30 years 5 days.

Are you an Ultrarunner, or are you Normal?

Ultrarunners are without a doubt "unique people". Let's be honest, most work normal day jobs as a cover for the fact they are a few fries short of a Happy Meal. Many have come to me and asked,"Am I crazy for wanting to run 100 miles, suffer sleep deprivation, and bodily harm, just to get a buckle?". My answer is yes. You are a weirdo. Welcome to the family!

However, sometimes it's not as easy to determine if you are normal, or an ultrarunner. It is universally known that one cannot be both, at least not at the same time. I've written this to help you out a bit. I've come up with some phrases, or ideas, and then I've determined what a normal person would think, and what a looney ultramarathoner would think. By the end of reading this, you should have a clear diagnosis. I will warn you that the very fact you found this blog about ultrarunning is a sad indicator that you are already profoundly leaning in the direction of NOT normal.

1. Using marathons as long training runs

Ultrarunner: thinks this is a normal, albeit expensive way to train. It mixes things up, and it's easy because it'll likely be flat, and you'll see a lot of friends doing the same.

Normal person: I've run for years doing 5k's and 10k's, and thought that was an accomplishment. I dream about running a marathon one day, but, 26.2 miles is still ridiculously far.

2. Gear consisting of GU's, hand bottles, hydration packs, salt tablets, compression socks, specialty clothing, trail shoes, hats, flasks....

Ultrarunner: business as usual. Got it all already!

Normal person: Are you running in the Sahara or something? Aren't flasks the fashionable way to carry alcohol? What the heck are those white powdery pills, and one ounce packets of slime?

3. Running 50-100 miles is normal

Ultrarunner: that's not too shabby, but I'd really like to do one of the longer races like Badwater, or Spartathlon.

Normal person: I don't even like to drive that far. That's why they made cars (I believe every ultrarunner has heard these at least once).

4. I run 100 miles to get a fancy buckle

Ultraunner: totally worth every blister, shut down kidney, and hyponatremia.

Normal person: dude, you can buy nice buckles at a store...and what the heck is hypnatremia?

5. I do hill repeats...

Ultrarunner: ...so I can be better prepared for the 4500 ft climb up Hope Pass at Leadville

Normal person: ....so I can be better prepared for the 200 ft climb up heart break hill at Boston. Better yet, I'll just run somewhere flat and not worry about hills.

6. Running a 5k

Ultrarunner: not worth an entry fee. Who needs another race t-shirt anyway?

Normal person: wow, 3.1 miles kicked my butt. I also got a cool shirt and the money went to a good cause.

7. Fat Asses

Ultrarunner: I have the inside scoop on these fun, aided, FREE, club events. It's a nice social way of getting in my little 50k, or 50 mile training run. Plus, who needs awards and more shirts?

Normal person: It's not nice to call people fat....Oh, it's the name of a run? If I'm gonna run 30-50 miles, I'd kinda like something to show for it :-/...but, I would NEVER run that stupidly far!

8. Marathon medals

Ultrarunner: they make good paper weights and coasters for the coffee table.

Normal person: If only I could find the way to earn just ONE!

9. 10 minute miles

Ultrarunner: I'd die to average a ten minute mile for an ultra!

Normal person: not bad for a few miles

10. Peeing infront of others

Ultrarunner: Not just peeing, but pooping, farting, snot rockets, chaffing, vomiting, bleeding, sweating....Let's face it, we display just about every bodily fluid and function on the trails.

Normal person: find a porter potty, or public bathroom. Geez, that's gross.

11. Western States, Badwater, JFK, Hardrock,...

Ultrarunner: Those are some big time races that I've either done, or like to do

Normal person: aren't those the name of a hospital, the description of drain water, an assasinated president, and a type of music?

12. Extreme conditions

Ultrarunner: 130 degrees in Death Valley, or -60 in the Antarctic

Normal person: the winter and the summer


Well....What's the consensus? Are you normal, or are you an ultrarunner? :-)

Hope this helped!
-Mike