Subject: Wasatch Front 100 - September 2001 From: Jeff Huff Date: Sun, 16 Sep 2001 18:35:27 -0000 Aloha, Well I made it back from Wasatch. Just wanted to post a note about the run. The week prior to Wasatch had seen tempes in the low 90's in Salt Lake City. Knowing that we would be up in the mountains I had visions of nice cool temperatures. Little did I know it would turn out to be that cold, but I was prepared. The run started under cool temperatures, I quickly fell in with Betsy Nye and Betsy Kalmeyer (of Hardrock lore) and worked my way up to Chinscraper. It was everything I thought it would be. Difficult, but very beautiful. Things went as expected to Francis Peak aid station, hit my splits right on. Saw my crew, Greg Pirkl, and my sister Debbie Holmes, they were waiting for me with a Sausage McMuffin with egg. Ate the sausage dumped the egg. Ran well for the next 4 miles, then things went bad. I stopped to relieve myself, looked up and my running group was gone. To make matters worse, I took a wrong turn and got off trail. It must have been 15 minutes before I corrected myself. After losing many places I was at least back on trail. Then a few minutes later, I had to step into the bushes for what seemed to be a 10 minute sojourn to get my colon working. Squatting in the weeds, even more runners passed. AQt this point we were runnining on mostly fire road. For those of you who know me I abhore roads of any kind. Doubts started to set in. SAfter getting lost, not being able to poop, people passing me who i thought shouldn't be passing me all weighed heavily on me. At some point I decided that I was done for the day. Traversing the trails to Big Mountain I started to simply walk it in, and announce my drop at 39 miles. Paul Schmidt came by and told me how to breathe to take away my altitude sickness. Soon I was being passed by akabill, and Clem Lecava, then by a guy on crutches, and a gal in a wheelcahir. A great downhill lay ahead of me, yet I walked it all the way into Big Mountain. I was pissed. So what happens. I get to the aid station and I see the Rocket and tel him " I don't have the passion for this today", his reply "I don't know what to tell you". Catra Corbett grabs me and helps me get weighed. I thought for sure I would be overweight from to much salt. At least that was my hope as that would explain my poor performance. Wrong. My weight was right on. Catra gets me to my crew and I announce that I'm dropping. Pirkl and Catra will not hear of it. I try to explain to them why today is just not my day. First I say I have altitude sickness, then I say I don't love the sport any more. They listen as they should then Greg proclaims, "look Jeff you have some great downhills coming where you will drop in altitude and you will run strong. The feeling will come back as you begin to reel in the runners ahead of you." After 15 minutes they convince me to leave the aid station. I leave and thankfully so. I start the hump up the next climb and begin to pass people. I catch aka, on such a climb as he is in a 5 step then stop and drink mode. I soon catch Clem , followed by all the runners who passed me on the downhill. I begin to get a warm fuzzy feeling, then the downhills begin. I am flying. Suddenly, "thwump" down I go onto my left chest. My ribs are killing me. I jump up and slam down the hills. I get into the 52 mile aid station before my crew projected I would. They like myself felt that my day was over. After Greg fills me up I am on my way. Knowing that he will pace me from 61 miles makes the next sections easier. He forgot to tell me that I would be climbing again. I get to Big Water (61 miles) and it is cold. Thankfully, Paul Schmidt had prepared me well in this regard. I pick up Greg and we are off. Things are pretty uneventful until I feel like getting sick. I asked Greg, "sghould I make myself puke?", I think his response was something like " I don't like to do that" just as I was sticking my finger down my throat. I retched and puked until these little black goblets came up. I mistook them for poop from my intestine, Greg laughed and said it was the Gu. We came to the conclusion that the altitude, was working on me in such a way that Iw would get sick the higher we went if I continued to eat and drink. Not a good sign, when we still have to summit Catherine's pass at 10,400. We literally limp into Brighton (75 mile). It's dark and cold. This place is the morgue. My sister is waiting for us. I decide to drop. I can't eat, I can't drink. I am totally frustrated because my legs feel fresh and strong. Not a hint of pain anywhere. I guess thats what happens when you walk a lot. Greg tries to get me to eat. First the hash brown (the grease revolts in my stomach). Then the coffee (yuck),soda (don't go there. all the while my sister is getting out fresh cold weather gear. Reports are is it's 20 degrees up top with who knows what the wind chill is. I feel like, crap, smell like crap, and look like crap. My stomach is upside down. My sister informs me that akabill has dropped. He can't do this I think out loud. I wanted to drop. My fate is sealed. I can't drop now. With all the propaganda we spewed about how tough HURT Trail is it is unfathomable for me to consider quitting. Besides Big John, Race Director Cuadra, Vernon and Garcia would never let me live it down. On top of that I gotta do it for aka, and Greg and Debbie and Catra who put so much effort into helping me. I take a salt tablet and swallow a bit of water. I finally choke down a PB & J sandwich. I get up and bruch my teeth. I am getting dressed. What am I doing? Greg and Debbie keep encouraging me. I can't believe I am going to do this. Knowing full well that there are limited opportunities from this point on to drop. To do so would mean waiting in the cold. After 45-50 minutes Greg and I are out the door and i am feeling better. We begin the long climb up from Brighton, midway up we come across two runners coming back down. They don't want to go on, so they are returning to Brighton. Further up an asthmatic is having an attack, not good at 10,000ft. I asked Greg to help the poor guy, but soon realize that Greg has his hands full with me. The rest of the run (er walk) is uneventful. Thanks to Greg I kept going. I couldn't eat or drink for hours on end. I would have to finish this event with lack of nourishment, it would simply become a will power thing. Needless to say the two of us wanted to get done ASAP. My legs were willing (still no pain), but there simply was no energy. Kind of like those days when you lay in bed after being sick all night, too weak to get up. At long last we hit the pavement for the last .5 miles. Karl Jensen catches me and asks me to run in with him, as hard as I try I can only run with him a few feet. Greg and I begin our walk. I look away from Greg as tears well up in my eyes. I know that I am going to finish. I owe Greg, Catra, Debbie, Paul, and all the others out there a big mahalo for getting me through this thing. We cross the finish lines to cheers, I don't even bother to look at the time. I had high hopes coming into this run. It was my type of course with difficult ups and great long downs. Just my style. I had envisioned a 25-26 hour finish. Instead it was nearly 32. But as I said then , I still say now this was my greatest ultra achievement. So many bad things happened, yet the body perservered. Today I feel great. I am still confused at what happened at Wasatch. What I am not confused about is this. Wasatch is a very difficult course. The toughest I have run on. Physically it will beat you up, but you just have to roll with the punches. As for HURT it is very difficult as well, but in a different way. My application to HURT will soon be in the mail. My body is renewed, and I am ready to battle. Can't wait to see you all out on the HURT Trail. Aloha, Jeff