Subject: Wasatch 100 (very looong) Date: Fri, 17 Sep 1999 14:52:41 -0600 From: Wendy Questereit Preview: The 1999 Wasatch 100 actually started last year. I paced the final 26+ miles of the race, and the experience I had there, combined with the smiles on the finishers faces, made finishing Wasatch my only goal for 99. This was actually written as a history of the race for myself and no others. Jency Brown is my training partner and friend. We both live in the Salt Lake Valley. Jency Brown and I lined up for the Wasatch 100 in about the middle of the pack. At the sound of the gun we were off. There was a new start this year, about 3.4 miles of running on the Bonneville Shoreline Trail. That section was fairly flat once we climbed up to the trail, meaning we were moving along pretty well. Fifteen minutes after the start I had already lost Jency when my flashlight went out. It had accidentally turned on in my pack and the batteries were dead. Not a big problem, just run behind the person with the brightest light. That worked O.K. until the stream crossing before Fernwood picnic grounds (the old start). It was there that the rock I was stepping on overturned and soaked my foot in cold water. Now I was starting to think that it was not going to be my race, but I tried to keep that thought out of my mind. The climb after Fernwood up to Chinscraper wasn't too bad. There were some people out front going fairly slow, and everyone went up in a long line. Chinscraper wasn't as intimidating as I thought it would be, it was steep and burned your lungs, but it wasn't long and it was walk able. Once over Chinscraper it was fairly flat with a few ups and downs all the way to Francis Peak. Four downhill miles of easy running brought us to the first real aid station, the Francis Peak Maintenance Sheds. By this time I was back with Jency, and when we stopped we ran into Scott Goodell on his mountain bike. It was nice to see a friendly face, and we talked as Jency and I ate and drank for about 5 minutes. Upon leaving the sheds I immediately had a stomach ache. I tried to just walk it off as Jency ran away from me, but it just wouldn't go away. I lost at least 10 minutes before finally resolving the problem and continued on with my journey. I now attached myself to a group of 6 people that included a friend of mine named Geri. As we climbed the steep climbs toward the Bountiful "B" aid station she was using a heart rate monitor and every time it went off, we slowed down. Even as slow as we went, it was still a tough climb to the aid station. I was learning from others to put my hands on my hips while walking to get more air. The climbs would get tougher. The section from "B" to Sessions Lift-off was a gentle rolling section on dirt road. No shade, but otherwise a good section to recover and make up time. For everyone but me that is. I was now alone (again) and feeling sorry for myself for all that had gone wrong up to this point. It took a little over an hour to reach Sessions, where I caught some runners in the aid station and I left it with them. The climb up to Sessions Pass, then the climb after Sessions were brutal. It was a warm day for all this uphill, and no one seemed to be climbing really well. After the struggle to the ridge line I hooked up with an experienced woman (I never got her name), but running with her seemed to bring me back and I was feeling good for the first time in the race. We ran together almost all the way to Swallow Rocks, even passing Jency along the way. I spent about 5 minutes at the Swallow Rocks aid station, then it was down to the Big Mountain aid station. I struggled in, but was glad to see my crew (Wendy, Audrey, and Tony), and glad that from here on out I would have a pacer to run with. After cooling my head, getting weighed, and refueling I was off with Greg Saunders. Greg was very excited to be there and was very talkative. As I had been feeling down earlier it was very uplifting to run with him. We were again running the flats and down hills, while being aggressive on the ups. Before long we were at the Alexander Springs aid station, and after a water refill we were out. Rolling up and downs in this section was fun, and after the last downhill we noticed that we had closed in on 6 runners that were strung out ahead of us. We slowly passed one after another, all but one before climbing the final ridge going into Parley's Canyon. Once in the canyon there was a short trail down to the old railroad bed, then down the railroad bed to a trail running along the stream at the bottom of Parley's before turning to head up Lambs Canyon. This was definitely the best part of my race. We ran the entire way and it felt great. When I weighed in at the Parley's Canyon aid station I was up 2 pounds from Big Mountain. Greg and my crew then fed me, washed and dried my feet, changed my shoes and sent me on my way with my new pacer Steve Lowe. We set an aggressive walking pace up the Lamb's Canyon road and continued it in the dark to the top of Bear Ass Pass. By now it was completely dark, and our plan of running down to the Millcreek road turned into a fast walk. Steve was a great pacer. As he walked ahead of me he would find every root or rock by stumbling over it and I would know where it was without him saying a word. Once we got to the Millcreek Canyon Road it was 3+ miles of road to the aid station at Big Water. Again Steve proved his worth by stepping into the middle of the street, in front of every car coming down the canyon, to make sure they would see us. It got cold at the Big Water aid station, and it would cause me to make the biggest mistake of my race. Instead of eating and drinking like I should have been, I was only concerned with getting warmer clothing on and moving again so I would warm up. I left Big Water after only a short break with my next pacer, Jason Warr. Jason and I started up the road, each of us carrying 2 lights, so darkness was not a problem. About 3 miles later we would encounter a problem. I was hurting big time. This was much worse then the last 3 times I was hurting. I was out of gas, tired and sore. Our only goal became making it to the Desolation Lake aid station. It was another brutal climb, we were passed by Jency and his pacer Heather (Jason's wife). Jason's encouragement helped get me to Desolation Lake even though I just wanted to stop and rest. Once there we found it was the most disorganized of all the aid stations. They didn't know where many items were, and Jason was taking care of my needs as they just looked for stuff. I did get some caffeine in me to wake me up, I thought this was one reason I was feeling so bad. I also ate a little and tried to warm up by the fire. We were only at the aid station 10 minutes, but I was feeling much better after we left. The next climb was the one to Red Lovers Ridge, and we climbed it very well considering how badly I felt just 30 minutes earlier. Along the ridge we maintained a steady, fast walking pace, and before I knew it, we were at the Scott's Peak aid station. We only stopped for a minute, then went on our way. I wasn't feeling too bad, but not too good either, so we walked the entire stretch in to Brighton. In the Lodge at Brighton (the aid station) it was very warm. I got some Coke, soup, bread, and even some hash browns. Another weigh in here, same weight as at Parley's. Change of shoes back to the Montrail's I started in, and I was off. Yet another brutal climb met us as we left Brighton. My final pacer was Tony DeArcos, and we were headed up Catherine Pass, then up to Point Supreme. The climbs now were nearly impossible. I was having trouble breathing and my quads were killing me. Slowly we made it to the top, stopping only twice to catch my breath. Now we were on a steep, rocky downhill to get to Ant Knolls aid station. We again walked it all, but at a fast pace. Tony asked what we were going to do at Ant Knolls. I said I needed to tie my shoes, but otherwise we could walk right through without stopping. As we go through the aid station a voice asks if I am feeling any better. I look over to see Jency and his pacer Dan Meyhew drinking coffee. I tell him I am feeling a little better and ask how he feels. He tells me he feels great. I wonder to myself how we could be at the same location if he is feeling great and I am on my last leg. I then ask him why he isn't on top of the grunt if he is feeling so good. No reply as Tony and I go on our way. The climb up The Grunt is short, only about 1/2 mile, but it is steep, and I needed to stop four times to catch my breath. Jency and Dan passed us during The Grunt, and once on the ridge line we lost sight of them as we walked and ran to the Pole Line Pass aid station. At Pole Line we again ran into Jency and Dan. I ate some food, took of my long pants, jacket, gloves, and headlamp. I left these items in the drop bag I had left at the aid station for this purpose, refilled my water, and went on my way. It was still cool being early in the morning, and with shorts on I felt ready to run. We ran all the down hills to Forest Lake. After passing Forest Lake was the last major climb in the race. We walked up the climb very well for 86 miles into the race. When we hit the next flat section I was feeling good. While Jency and Dan were pushing to stay ahead of us, Tony and I just plain didn't care if they finished ahead or behind. Just as I am beginning to enjoy my morning a runner passes me. Tony, now just ahead of the other runner, thinks it is me ready to run. Tony then starts running and the two are now pulling away from me. What can I do? I start running to catch up to them. Tony eventually comes back to me and we continue towards Mill Canyon aid station. Suddenly one mile out of Mill Canyon we pass Jency and Dan again. We cruise into the aid station about one minute ahead. I got a quick bite to eat, some Coke, and my water refilled and we took off. The next section was 5 miles of rolling ridge line that runs like it is 10 miles. Jency and Dan catch us and we all walk together to the final aid station, Alpine Loop. Here I must look as bad as I feel. My crew and Jency's are there, and with Jency out of the aid station quickly, there are now 8 people telling me I only have a short way to go while they are trying to stuff my face with food and drink. It all seemed strange after 94 miles. I wanted to get back to the peace and quite of the trail. Once on the final section from Alpine Loop to Sundance I told Tony that we just wanted to walk it in and enjoy the moment. My quads were really hurting and I was worried that if I started running they would just seize up and stop working. So we just enjoyed ourselves and walked. We were fortunate enough to see two large bull elk while we were on the horse trail, but it was very warm. After what seemed like an eternity we reached the trail marker 23 sign. From here only about 1/2 a mile to 22 sign, then across the street and over to the finish. Only problem was that it took a long time to find the 22 sign. The longest 1/2 mile of my life, but once I saw it, I knew I would finish. Suddenly I was overcome by the emotion of it. Here was something I thought I would never do, run 100 miles of tough Utah mountains. Yet here I was about to do it. It had never been a race with others, just a race against myself, the mountains, and the elements. Tears swelled up in my eyes and I was grinning from ear to ear. I really wanted to stop with 400 yards to go and enjoy the moment, but I didn't. The final 100 or so yards you come out of the woods onto a ski run at Sundance. When a runner would come out everyone at the finish would be applauding and screaming. It was a great. I raised my arms and waived as I ran towards the finish line. I got a congratulatory handshake from Tony, then crossed the finish line. It was a feeling I will never forget. The first person to congratulate me after the race was John Grobben, the race director. Then everyone else came over to congratulate me. I felt like I was flying, my race was finally done. Later that afternoon they had the awards ceremony. There I met some other finishers and found out about the fate of other runners that did not finish. They have out the awards in order of finish, but I was in no hurry, this day could last forever. I finally got my plaque and belt buckle and drove home. Finishing your first 100 mile race is one of the greatest feelings in the world. I cannot even begin to explain it. It's 100 times better then finishing your first marathon. It was one of the greatest experiences of my life. It seemed I lived an entire life in those 2 days. I experienced every emotion. I made some friends, and solidified my friendship with others. I need to thank many people who helped me. My crew: Tony, his wife Audrey, and my wife Wendy were invaluable. They were efficient and thorough. My pacers were the best. They all took there job seriously and did a great job. I picked my pacers from among my closest friends, and that made the difference. Greg, Steve, Jason, and Tony (yes, he had 2 jobs) are the best anyone could hope for. I also need to thank Toby and Bev Salazar for their help and support during, and after the race. Thanks Doug for the ride to the start. Thanks George for your help and support. I also need to thank Karen and Jency Brown. Karen was Jency's crew, she was very supportive throughout the race, and also very supportive of us both throughout training. Jency gave me the courage to run the race, he was also my training partner. Tony also was a constant training partner, giving of himself so that Jency and I would have a successful experience. If you ever want to run a hundred get a veteran ultra runner like Tony to give you advice. Also go on his Saturday morning trail runs. Thanks to the Wasatch race committee and the race director. Wasatch is a great race. The volunteers were spectacular. How many people give up their weekend to help others? Most of all I would like to thank my family. A race like this cannot be done without the love and support of the most important people in my life. If you are wondering why I am rambling, I am actually writing this for myself. So I can look back in later years and remember everything and everyone, though I don't think it is something I will ever forget. Will I ever go back?? Wendy and I both see me running Wasatch again, it's only a matter of time. Olaf Questereit 3521 w 8070 So West Jordan, Ut 84088 questow@burgoyne.com