The High Country

A random phone call from my Dad on my brother's birthday almost had me skip a heart beat or 2.  It had been over 2 years since he moved out west, and I had yet to visit him.  Life and limited vacation days weren't on my side.  Due to some hip trouble, my Dad couldn't fly and wanted my brother to have support for his first 50k.  I found out there was still registration for the Half Marathon distance.  I sent a snap of my registration confirmation to him, and he called me 30 seconds later, and the adventure was on.

As we talked amongst the giddyness of our upcoming adventure, the realization hit me, this race began at 7,300 ft, and topped out a few feet shy of 9,000 ft of altitude.  My house sits at only a few feet shy of 1,100 ft, and I've only been over 5,000 ft once, and that was just standing there for a few minutes.

"Dude, I don't want to sound worried, but how much of an affect will the altitude have on me?"  I nervously asked.

"Haha well, you'll definetly feel it.."

"Well, not exactly encouraging, but sure, why not?!" 

2 weeks later, I arrived in Boulder late Thursday evening, enough time for a hefty meal and a beer or 2.  Got a chance to check out the Flat Irons too at sunset .  We discussed race strategy, and travel itinerary while we chilled on his apartment balcony.  Our 5am wake up call was happening whether we were ready or not, so we called it a night shortly after Midnight.  

Before departing to Bryce, we walked into Moe's Bagel, moments after the open sign lit up.  There's something so unbelievably therapeutic about a cup of strong coffee and a hefty breakfast burrito to get the day started.  Utah, here we come, elevated heart rate an all.

The drive during this section of the country was as beautiful as one could imagine.  I was fascinated watching my Garmin sync up continuously with the climb in elevation.  As we approached the Eisenhower Tunnel, I was as high as I've ever been at 11,200 ft.  I felt the pressure in my temples, it was wild.  We were trekking along the Continental Divide in the Rocky Mountains, I was humbled.  Humbled at the thought of early hunter gathers, explorers, venturing West, and adapting to the rugged terrain, without a GPS or stores to stop along the way.  It's a must see for all that have a conscious thought. Usually I-70 takes me through the painfully boring landscape in Ohio, only 2,000 miles west, it's taken me through the highest vehicular tunnel in the world and the surrounding views were drastically different.

Upon reaching Utah, a place I ventured to with my wife in 2013 when we got engaged, I was taken back by the sights and memories.  You almost feel as if you're taking a trip back in time.  The red and golden landscape, the horizon appears as it's never ending.  After making a left off the main road, we adventure down a dirt road roughly 3-4 miles, thinking, "this can't be right, we're lost.."  Finally we see a sign for the Bryce Canyon Ultramarathon races.

We set up camp and ventured down to the race expo.  I looked down at my Garmin and the elevation tracker read, 7,310 ft.  "I have no idea how my body is going to respond to this," was all I could think.  We walked around, went back to camp and cheffed up elk steak with sweet potatoes and avocados.  It was amazing.  We walked a bit to an opening in the horizon on a hill side aside from camp.  We toasted to our Pappy who passed away on June 1, 1995.  23 years later his grandkids were staring at the American West, watching sunset, part of me wants to believe he was there with us too.

Sleep was a struggle.  I am all for nature, but I couldn't shake the idea of bears and mountain lions, and this busted ass excuse for a tent wasn't calming those thoughts.  I went into the car and sat cramped in the front seat, and according to my watch, I slept all of 1 hour and 25 minutes.  Ouch.  I periodically dozed off and got up before my 4:30 am alarm.  Unfortunately, I set off the car alarm in my sleep deprived stooper.  My brother jumped up, thinking something happened, no, it was just me.  He looked at me in disbelief.  "Well, good morning?"

We ate some cold oatmeal, few scoops of pb, and french pressed coffee, off to the start.

It was unbelieveably cold, but our 1 mile walk to the race start was something magical.  The sky had this dark side of the moon esque tint, and the stars were scattered all over the high altitude horizon.  The winds were quite brisk as well, but the scenery overrode the lack of sleep and chilly air.  There were multiple fire pits around the start, allowing people to get some warmth and hopefully not get hypothermic.

We were finalizing his race strategy, making sure we had our water bottles, and GU's most importantly.  About 10 minutes before the start, the race director announced on the mic, and "we have the 3rd place finisher of the 100 mile race striding to the finish line!"  A few hundred people began cheeering him in to complete his 100 mile journey, finishing a few minutes past 24 hours.  Being a huge fan of ultrarunning, yet never seeing a finish to a 100 miler, I was humbled and at a loss of words.  What an incredible feat.

As if that wasn't cool enough, Matt and I hugged and dapped each other up, as he made his way over to the start.  I glanced to my right and saw 2x Western States Champ, Rob Krar making his way to the start as well.  I quickly ran up to Matt, "holy shit, you're running alongside Rob Krar!"  He looked confused, "I've heard that name before.."  "Yeah man, 2x Western States champ,"  Matt's eyes lit up, shook his head, "that is so cool, I bet he wins.."  "Yeah bro, that's a safe bet," I confirmed.

My race began an hour later.  I ran the Half Marathon, and honestly had no idea what to expect.  I began painfully conservative.  Several people pased me the first 2 miles, as I didn't want the heart rate to spike high.  My lungs were getting taxed almost immediately with the lack of oxygen to which I am conditioned for.

I fell into a comfortable rhythm around the 5k mark, and passed a few handful of people who's legs and lungs were already not cooperating.  I was running through a meadow of green with flowers all over, zig zagging along a hill side.  I caught up to another runner, and we chatted for a bit.  He said his breathing was really struggling coming from Cincinnati.  Told him, I was right there with him, coming from Pittsburgh.  I was consciously breathing through my nose frequently, allowing for more efficient oxygen use.  I was suprisingly getting stronger as the race continued.  I ended up running miles 4-9 with Jesse, a runner from Salt Lake City.  On a pretty gnarly climb to the 10k mark, climbing through a handful of switchbacks in a heavily dense section of forest, well over 8,000 ft now, he asked where I was from.  He asked sounding confused, "you're not from altitude?" after I told him I was from Pittsburgh.  "Well, my house sits at 1,080 ft, is that altitude?" as I laughed.  He was very impressed, I told him I was just fortunate to keep moving thus far.  Also told him I had a solid last 2 months of training and racing, which surely helped fitness for this race.  From 10k-mile 9, the highest point of the race, 8,800 ft, we partnered to keep each other on pace.  I set the pace on some rolling down hill, and he pushed upwards on some climbs.

The highest climb of the race, up to Blue Fly was alongside this picturesque mountain side.  We saw the leading runners flying down the mountain, not too far in front of us.  Jesse, "dude, unless I counted wrong, we're near the top 10, how are you feeling?"  "I am feeling good brother, let's charge up this hill, keep the pace!"  We run where we can, but power hiked too to keep the heart rate from maxing out.  This tactic kept the mind and body moving consistently.  "My god, where is the top of this damn climb"  Jesse uttered to me.  I waited a few seconds as I just glanced over my right shoulder to see an awe inspiring opening of the valley, thousands of feet ahead and below, just amazing.  I glanced high up and saw a runner coming down the mountain side.  "Hey man, look up.."  "Oh dear god, that's still a decent climb, shit!" he shouted back.

The partnership we developed over the last 5 miles really embodies the running culture.  Sure, we're there to compete, but the random commoredorie you can develop on the trails is beautiful.  As we crested Blue Fly the highest point of the race, we shook each others hands and hugged upon walking into the aid station.  I went and grabbed a few waters, and half a PB and Jam sandwich.  Jesse came over to me and asked how I was feeling, I told him to go ahead as I was going to rest another minute, but I'd do my best to catch him.  He wished me luck and bombed down the hill.  I took a few deep breaths, soaked in the breathaking sights ahead and began a strong descent moments later.

I'd consider downhill running a strength of mine.  Combine some adrenealine and incredible Southwestern sights, these last 4 miles were a downhill runner's paradise.  I ran solo those last few miles, and ended up passing a few.  I wasn't sure where I was at place wise, was hoping to catch up to Jesse, but from the finishing times, he appeared to be consistently 1 minute ahead of me.  Strong finish my friend.  As I made a right onto the last straightaway with a mile left, a wave of emotions overtook me.  I was running through a desert looking valley with tall peaks on both sides of me, crushed gravel terrain, a bit different from my Saturday morning long runs at home.  I shouted out love to all my family as I charged that last mile.  Nearing the familiar stretch after the start, I peaked overhead and saw the finish line, 6 minute pace never felt so painful.  I rushed across the finish line, almost immediately began coughing for 10 minutes.  Respiratory overload.

The air had warmed up drastically, and now as I cool downed and got some food in me, the wait for Matt's finish was the next priority.  Oh yeah, time for a coffee, or 2.

The sun was increasingly warmer, now in the 80s, yet humidty was nowhere in sight.  Humidity was coming in at a little over 10%, those type of conditions were alien to me.  I was making small talk with a bunch of randoms.  I'd been at the finish line hanging out and enjoying the scene, when the want and need for some more coffee and water had me get up. Ironically enough, I was walking up to get water at the same time Rob Krar was.  I wanted to respect his space, but I had to share a few words.

Before getting halfway through my name and congrats on his victory, he flashed a wide smile back and extended a respectful handshake.  Man, that was too cool.  We talked for a few minutes, and I swear on my life, I asked, "any 100s on the horizon, how's the knee recovery?" He had reconstructive surgery 7-8 months earlier.  He replied nonchalantly, "I am eying up something this year, if the knee stays on this current path, I'd love to tackle a 100 this year."  2.5 months later, he nearly set the Leadville 100 record.  Wow.

"Alright Matt, where are you at?"  It was at least 45 minutes past our semi conservative finish time estimation.  I was staying patient, but as each minute passed, I had to accept he might be in a rough patch.  I talked to a husband awaiting his wife, as their daughter ran around with wild energy.  I learned she was a multi time 100 finisher.  She was building up to Hardrock that spring into summer.  Next level bad ass.

We're now at the hour mark past his estimated finish.  I am trying to stay preoccupied while anticipating his finish.  The husband I was talking to had roots in Pittsburgh.  Never fails.  We walked closer to the finish line so I could have a good vantage point.  Finally, I spotted Matt.

"Dude, what the hell is your brother running with?!"  "Yeah I have no idea, that's a great question!"

I was cheering loud and proud.  My new finish line friend yelled, "Let's go PITTSBURGH!"  Matt came striding in, and looking strong.  32.5 miles and running across the finish, amazing!

He nearly had to drop at mile 22 because his knee was seriously jacked up.  He planted wrong along a turn on the trail, sat along the trailside for almost an hour trying to shake the pain and get a stride going.  In fear of having to DNF, he grabbed a large stick to help his balance for a few miles until the pain shook.  Seriouly a genius, well thought out move in the moment. He fought off some finish line pain and shakes, needing water and lots of sugar.  After 20 minutes, euphoria kicked in.  "Other than my legs feeling wasted, I am about to cry, that was amazing."  Job well done.

To life adventures and embracing the moment,
Andrew & Matt