Moab's Red Hot 55K 2014

By MVH

Presidents Day weekend in Moab has become a tradition for my little family. By February my wife is ready for a weekend away from teaching third graders, and my boys are excited for a return to the desert to look for dinosaurs and play on sandstone. For me, I get to run 33 miles over slickrock and red dirt in Moab's Red Hot 55K. I ran it last year and struggled somewhat with blown quads, so this year I made arrangements to have a better go of it. With better training and familiarity with the course, I started with the intent to finish under 5 hours. After much resting through November and the holidays, I resumed training at the start of the new year and focused on developing speed and hill climbing strength.

Friday evening before the race we arrived in Moab, checked into our hotel and went for dinner at...Denny's. I know, I know. But by the time I worked my way through the long line at race-packet pickup, the hour was late, we were tired and hungry, and we needed cheap, quick food. In the 1980s when I was a boy on vacation with my parents, my dad always described the likes of Denny's food as "sawdust". I can confirm that in 2014 they have not changed their ingredients. Of course I hoped that my sawdust meal would not be a problem for me in the morning. Not if I could help it. Those who run with me on weekdays know that I make a mandatory stop in the first mile to, uh, "lighten the load". But on race days, I am all business, and I make sure to take care of "business" well before the race.

Red Hot is a big race. By 'big' I mean lots of participants. All that movement and chatter at the start line is exciting and intimidating. But I felt good and just wanted to run on dirt, wearing shorts and t-shirt. The temperature in the morning was pleasant. The R.D. counted us down not long after I arrived and suddenly a mass of colorful bodies were bouncing down the Jeep trail toward the mesa.

In There Somewhere
 Photo: Myke Hermsmeyer

Like last year I ran a few steps behind one of my running heroes. He didn't sprint off like the young fellows at the front, but I knew he would move up several places by the finish. I concentrated on running that first uphill at a quick but comfortable pace. I ran a fast 3 miles through the valley, then ran up the second climb easily. On the road up to Metal Masher I compared how I was doing to the previous year and knew this was going to be better. I passed the first aid table without stopping. My confidence increased and I ran consistently up to the top of the mesa, to the highway overlook. From there the trail winds back down, somewhat technically, back toward the first aid station. On the flats my speed training payed off. I maintained my place and even picked up a handful of places. By the time I had come back down the hill where we end the loop portion of the course, I knew I was going to have a good day. I looked forward to running on the slickrock of Gold Bar, where last year I fell apart.

 How could you not want to run there?

Photo: Myke Hermsmeyer

Gold Bar is like no other trail I have run. It's not a trail, but a route. It is other-worldly. It is a maze of desert geology decorated with desert plants. The route markers were well-placed and I wondered if they had been there since last year because they were tied to the same unattached random rocks. A few times I had to stop and look around for the next marker. Last year I struggled through this middle section and watched runner after runner pass me. This year, three passed me, including Kerri, the eventual 2nd place women's finisher.

At the top of Gold Spike, at the mile 22 aid table, I stopped briefly to down a coupla cups of soda. My aid stops had been crisp and quick - really no more than the time it took for a volunteer to refill my open water bottle. I was loving this. It feels good to have a good, solid, consistent day. At the last aid table a volunteer told me there was five miles to go. Easy. I can do five miles. But this five miles had a series of climbs over petrified sand dunes. At four miles we hit flat dirt road and I again called up on my speed training. I picked up another handful of places and remained there to the finish.

Trying to hold my place

Photo: Stephen Lindsay

The last mile was tough, as it always is, but I was in danger of slipping to 21st place from a runner only ten seconds back. It was Mark H., who started with us at the Pony Express 100 in October. He is fast. I hung on and finished 20th in a time of 4:44:52. Two years ago this would have been a top ten finish, and shows how competitive this race has become.

At the finish I felt terrific. Not only did I meet my sub-5 hours goal, but this race was an excellent training run for an upcoming race.

Later That Day...

I took my family to MILT'S for some greasy good American food, then back to the hotel to watch the Winter Olympics. The next few days we spent seeing dinosaur tracks, petroglyphs, and exploring Arches N.P. We have a new tradition. We will be back next year.

By the Stars

When we turn off our headlamps and crane our necks back we are enveloped by the bright, shining stars backed by the eclipsing emptiness of space. It's beautiful and mesmerizing. And it's simply a random Saturday night with some local Wasatch Mountain Wranglers.

"Wranglers" - the duality of the word is actually comical and yet completely unplanned. Months ago I started the Facebook group the "Wasatch Mountain Wranglers". Its intended purpose was to create a public forum to connect on running plans. I figured it would be easier for the 10 to 15 of us to coordinate plans on there than to email. Now, so many months later the group has crested more than 450 members and has a completely self-sustaining community. The group is filled with wranglers, both those who corral mountains like tame horses and those who lasso their friends into doing their bidding.

Jennilyn was the Wrangler this night. A run we've done a few times now has gone unfinished in Winter - running Tibble Fork to the top of Hidden Peak (the top of Snowbird Ski Resort) and needed to get done. She and a couple of others tried it last week and got scared off by a snow machine making its way down the mountain towards them. Uncertain if they were going to get in trouble or not, they opted to get out of there instead of face potential consequences.

We started our adventure at 9pm on a crisp, but not overly cold night. Tibble Fork Reservoir reflected the surrounding mountains while Box Elder Peak kept vigil over us. Five of us - me, Jennilyn, Scott, Leslie, and Jen made our way up Tibble Fork Rd toward Mineral Basin. Leslie and I fell behind as we scouted out some very obvious mountain lion tracks. The reality of the wildness around us enveloped us like a fog and we continued on in quiet respect. The climb up with quick and easy as we approached the bottom of the lift, Larry's Hole (at least that's what it's called in the Speedgoat 50k).

As we approached it became obvious that there people inside the shack, purposefully managing the snow makers just outside. While the others seemed apprehensive about approaching I took the initiative and walked right up to the building. Two guys came out to greet us, asked where we came from, and were impressed with our Saturday night's activity. I felt comfortable asking them how high we could go and they excitedly told us to "go all the way up". Sweet, Hidden Peak was ours for the taking. We donned our Kahtoola and Hillsound spikes and headed straight up Mineral Basin. The slope was steep, often approaching 45 degrees, but the snow was tracked out and bullet hard, so there was no chance of avalanche, just slipping. We successfully hit the top of Hidden Peak and the warmth of the 'warming room' in exactly 3 hrs. Having the warming room was a real treat and we hung out, snapped a pic, and prepped for going back out into the cold.

A warming room at 11,000 ft. Yep, that's awesome.

The run down wasn't nearly as direct as the way up, it was just too steep. Instead we cruised down the groomer track, only stopping at the steeper sections to pull out garbage bags and slide down the hill on our backsides. One time I got moving so fast that I almost took out Jennilyn and had to pull the bag out from under me so that I could slow myself to stop. Back down on the road out of Mineral Basin Leslie pulled out her sled and started riding it down the snow machine track which acted just like a luge run. Twice she did it, both times riding well over a quarter of a mile. I remember the last time she slid down she spun around just before coming to a stop and seeing them smile on her face was of pure childhood enjoyment. Magic.

We continued down without incident. Jennilyn and I even tried to hide and scare the others, unsuccessfully. We chatted away, fighting off the sleep that was starting to weigh on us. It was now almost 2am, and three of the five of us had already run once before earlier in the day. Ultimately it was one of the best runs of the year. I'm so pleased with the friends I have and can't think of a better way to have spent a Saturday night.

2013- A year in review: By Scott Wesemann

What a year! It seems like I have been saying that every year for the past several years, but as I look back at 2013 I can't help but think it was a pretty phenomenal year once again. I ran more miles and gained more elevation than ever before. I finished 3 100 mile races and once again hit my goal to summit over 100 peaks for the year. Here's the recap:

A hug from Craig at the Buffalo 100 finish.

Buffalo Run 100: Yeah, on paper this race seems like a pretty easy one, if you can call running 100 miles easy, but this year the weather didn't cooperate and finishing this race was one of the most difficult things I have ever done. The cold air, wind and constantly changing temperatures were something I hadn't planned well enough for. Mix in some really achy knees and the first 50 miles were a total mess. The wind calmed down some the back 50, but the cold temps during the night really took a toll and grinding out the last 30 miles was a suffer-fest. I didn't have the finishing time that I wanted, but I got it done and overcame a lot of adversity out there. I'm looking forward to running this race again in 2014 and significantly improving my time.

The boys at the Bryce 100

Bryce 100: This was the best experience that I have ever had in running and one of the sweetest memories of my life. I was fortunate to be able to run every step with 3 of my best friends, Craig, MattW and Josh. My plan going in was to do whatever I had to in order to hang with the guys for the first 50 miles and then take it from there. Remarkably we all felt pretty good the whole way and not only were we able to run the entire 100 miles together, but we also finished in a very respectable tie for 19th place. I still can't believe that we all went the whole distance without any significant issues. I'll never forget all of the laughs, the pain and pushing each other through the night. I think more than anything this race taught me what I am capable of and it also reaffirmed that I have some pretty incredible friends.

Me, Craig, Josh and Matt at the Bryce 100 finish.

Speedgoat 50K: This is probably the most difficult 50K in the country and since it is in my backyard I've wanted to do it for a few years now. After banging my kneecap in the Uintas my training had suffered significantly and I was worried about it going into the race. Fortunately I felt fantastic the entire 32 miles and the scenery was as good as it gets anywhere. Mix in several elite runners, most of the local ultra running crew and all of the Refuse2quit guys and it made for the perfect day. My only real complaint was my knee took a beating in Mary Ellen Gulch, but otherwise I completely enjoyed this race... Oh wait, there was that part when we had to make the final climb back up to Hidden Peak. That kind of blew a bit, but otherwise it was one of the best days of 2013 and I got to swear at Karl.

Running the Speedgoat 50K

Wasatch 100: This was my 3rd straight Wasatch. With my experience finishing the race twice along with some very solid training during the year made me feel very confident about reaching my sub 30 hour goal, but the Wasatch course has a way of neutralizing expectations. It was one of the hottest Wasatch race days ever and was in the high seventies when we started at 5:00 AM. I felt nauseous from the start (damn you Hostess pie) and didn't start feeling well until about mile 25. I did have a fantastic stretch from mile 25 to Swallow Rocks at mile 34, but I developed a really bad calf cramp that got progressively worse to the finish. I felt decent to Desolation Lake (mile 66) but from there to Brighton the wheels came off, the nausea came back and I lost my will to finish. After spending several hours at Brighton (mile 75) my pacers, Rob Bladen and Zac Marion refused to let me quit. I was convinced that I couldn't finish, but somehow I got out of there and came back to life. I felt phenomenal the final 25 miles and went from 211th place to 150 at the finish, shaving almost 3 hours off of my previous best time on the last 25 miles. It was my slowest 100 mile finish ever, but one that I am the most proud of. I learned that our bodies are stronger and more capable than we think. We can accomplish at times what we think is unthinkable.

Finishing my 3rd Wasatch 100

102 peaks: Keeping track of my total mountain ascents for the year started in 2009 after I made it a goal to climb a peak per week for the year. From 2010-1013 I've summited 348 peaks. Last year I set a goal to go over 100 and I finished the year with 116. My goal this year was once again 100 and midway through the year it wasn't looking very good, but I made a really strong push the last few months and just barely hit the mark. Most of the summits were repeats, but I did hit 11 new peaks that I had never been on and I loved every single one. My favorite summit memory of the year was watching the sunset from the top of Tokewanna Peak with MattV and Craig. It was pretty awe inspiring to be there in that moment, in one of the most remote and least visited places in the High Uintas. I'll never forget that feeling.

Willard Peak with Jennilyn and Craig

2013 was a sweet year. Most of all the best memories from the year are getting up early while the rest of the world sleeps, to meet great friends to play on the trails and in the mountains. I could not be more stoked for 2014. We have a lot of adventure planned and I'm psyched to watch all of my friends do amazing things. There are races to run, summits to climb and adventures ahead. Bring it on.

The Grandeur Peak Fun Run

A Glance Back While Planning Ahead

As I sat down to plan out my running schedule for 2014, I struggled to grasp and accept the idea that the 2013 season was over. There were so many emotions that went into this last year. Heartaches and struggles as well as successes and accomplishments were so much more abundant and profound this season. So what started as a post about the new year and new goals, is going to be a look back at the great season that 2013 was for me.

I consider this last year my defining year in running. Not because the races that I competed in or the adventures that I was a part of defined my career as a runner. But because I was finally able to define what kind of runner I am.

Up until this year, I found myself to be a rather mediocre road runner. With marathon PR’s just under 3 hours and half PR’s just under 1:20, it was time for me to start really focusing on speed if I want to “go anywhere” in running. Even though I started to see the benefits of my focus, running didn’t get any better for me. It wasn’t until I met up with Craig Lloyd and Mark Kruezer that things started to fall into place. Through them, I found the Wasatch Mountain Wranglers... who I instantly felt akin to.

It started on a cold February morning when Craig somehow convinced me that I should run my 20 miler with them on an icy trail. Of course I showed up without a pack, no micro spikes and no headlamp. It was the most difficult and uncomfortable 20 miles I’ve ever run. But by the end of that run, I was hopeful that I would be invited on more of these adventures. Thankfully the gang thought I was cool enough and I was welcomed with open arms.

I noticed that I was focusing less and less on the road and had been training more and more in the mountains. Going fast quit becoming the goal and focus. It was replaced with having fun and being out on trails. I almost felt a relief after a successful 3^rd place finish and another 3 hour marathon at the Ogden Marathon because that meant that I could finally completely let go of what little grasp I had left.

The vision I had for the year finally came into focus just a few weeks after Ogden. With beat up legs, I was coaxed (it really doesn’t take much, apparently) into a last minute 100k race at the Bryce 100. I don’t know what it was that made me sign up for this race with just a day’s notice and knowing that I was completely untrained… especially since I was still hobbling from the marathon not even two weeks earlier.

That day, that race and on those trails, I learned who I was as a runner. It took 65 miles of SUFFERING, almost 18 hours of pain, and a pretty good sunburn to help me understand that I would rather suffer for that long on the trails than suffer 3 hours on the road. As Mark likes to say, “[I] had a different look in my eyes from that day on”. I had grown up that day. A LOT. I would consider it my aboriginal walk-about.

Thanks to New Balance, I was offered a spot in the Leadville 100 and had something in the Ultra world that I could now start to focus on. Once I recovered from Bryce, the next two months were about getting in long days on the trails and running to the tops of things. So many fun adventures ensued! Brighton Marathon, Millcreek Overnighter, Pie ‘n’ Beer (which I turned into a 50k), King’s Peak Marathon, and even my own 50k on the BST with a few peaks thrown in.

Leadville was a special day for me. Definitely the highlight of the I have my own race-day philosophies and will one day possibly try to explain them when I can find such words. But mainly not approaching that race with ANY expectations or real concrete goals is what made it so much fun and successful. That, and the fact that I was crewed by my father and wife and was paced by two of my favorite running friends, Leslie and Bob. Crossing that finish line meant so much to me and I’m glad I was able to spend it with those closest to me.

It sounds obscured, but that one singular step over the finish line changed me forever.

After my selfish summer and once Leadville was done, I decided to repay the favor for a little while and had a blast pacing Leslie at UROC 100k (where she destroyed it!) and supported tons of friends and even got to pace Scott Wesemann, with what I consider the most impressive finish, at Wasatch 100 this year.

I thought my season had ended with Leadville and was just having some fun on peaks. I was, again, talked into a last minute 100k at Antelope Island. I went out just to have fun and was able to compete with fellow Altra Footwear runner Damian Stoy. We had a fun day running together and I was very happy to end the season with a second place finish.

I was able to play around for the week after the race on a few peaks with some friends, including two first time peaks on Lone Peak and Olympus. Unfortunately, an injury that I incurred at Antelope Island went into full blown status and I was forced to take the rest of the year fairly easy.

The frustration that I thought would come never did. I know it sounds cliché but, honestly, I was just so happy to be a part of such a great community and so grateful for the year I had, that it didn't matter to me. Besides, I got to spend some much needed time with family, loved ones, and bowls of ice cream.

I wish that life had a rear view mirror so I can keep my focus on what’s to come, while occasionally looking back and seeing where the trip has already taken me. 

Waxing Lyrical

 By MVH

Caution: Gratuitous Use of Personal Pronouns Ahead

So let's get the stats out of the way first:

In 2013 I covered 2500 miles on foot and accumulated over a half million feet of vertical ascent. In the narrow world of "People Who Do This Kind of Stuff" - meh, that's sort of middling. And I am a middle-aged guy so that is appropriate. But for me, if I define myself, in part, as a distance runner, it translates to a pretty good year. I ran faster and farther than I ever had. I even won some races.

Other significant accomplishments:

I slugged back a lot of endurance gel. Like, gallons.
I pooped a lot in the out-of-doors.
I did much of my own laundry.
I made new friends ( I hope).
I strengthened existing friendships (I hope).

Highlights:

All of it.

OK that is a lame answer. Choosing the best, I include:

Antelope Island Buffalo Run 100 Mile. Early in the year it was this finish that confirmed to me what I could do. I would build on it.

Grandeur Fun Run. Storheim's local little ten mile, 4,000 foot uphill party. Raining, muddy, tons of fun - as advertized.

 Millwood 100. The exquisitely painful and joyful (See Alma the Younger) hundred mile monster lurking in the heart of the Wasatch. I did it. I love being able to say that. I did it. Stuff like this is a gateway drug to the hard stuff: Barkley and Nolans. Wait, what?

Lone Peak to Pfeifferhon Traverse Loop, starting and ending in Draper. It was a 25 mile solo adventure involving a climb to Lone Peak via Big Willow Cirque. After the summit I traversed the ridge to South Thunder Mountain, then followed Lightning Ridge to Chipman Peak, then traversed to the summit of Pfeifferhorn. I exited to Red Pine/White Pine trail to LCC, then ran the road back to Draper. This was significant for me because the Beatout route over the same terrain was my first major hike in the Wasatch, several years ago when I was a fat hiker. That first time, the terrain terrified me. As a runner, I experienced one of those Rocky Mountain highs John Denver sang of when I tap-danced over granite boulders and trod grassy in-betweens.

Pony Express 100 Mile Endurance Run. Meltzer says: "Winning never gets old". For me, it was an entirely new thing. Will it get old? Stay tuned.

Frary Peak Hill Climb. A tiny little uphill battle race out on Antelope Island. I won it, barely. So far, Meltzer is right.

Antelope Island to Fremont Island. With Jim Skaggs and a group of die hards, I ran across the Great Salt Lake to privately-owned Fremont Island. We ran in a snow/rain storm over the flattest of flat exposed sandbar. Rumors of wild boar on the island kept us on our toes (we didn't see any) and we laughed the entire way out and back.

I cannot wait to start the new year. I am excited to see what friends do, and to offer my support and encouragement. I prefer not to tell people what they cannot do. I don't ask why they would want to run a hundred  miles or climb over the mountains. I know why. It's the how, where, and when that interests me.

A Year In Reflection

by Craig

Like taking any mirror selfie, writing a year-end report always comes out better in my head than on paper. Thinking back now it’s easy to hold on to all of the disappointing results and allow them to weigh on my confidence going into 2014. But the optimist and core ultrarunner in me is still always looking forward and I know that everything I went through this year will be for my benefit next year. So this report will be focused on the amazing and not the disappointing.

2012 was a very successful and quite selfish year for me. I knew as I was going through it and at the end much of my year had been spent wrangling many of my friends into tagging along or crewing/pacing me on several of my personal adventures. I made a commitment to make 2013 more focused on my friends’ accomplishments and less on my own. I’d like to believe I did a pretty good job of it, but there is still a part of me that knows I could have done more.

In January a very tiny person came into my life. For being so small Jennilyn is a giant in determination, running ability, and suffering. She can also be a little mean. In only a few runs she was a central spoke in our community wheel of runners and quickly bounced to the top of “I’m going to lead the way in making everyone suffer at my amusement”. Needless to say she was immediately one of my best friends. Jennilyn is a very focused runner with grandiose goals that she often keeps close to her chest. She does this because running, for her, is very personal, and her goals and successes are also deeply personal. She has very little interest in being in the limelight. Just ask her to interview on camera and you’ll know what I mean.

Jennilyn came to me twice this year to help her achieve two big goals. The first was her attempt to become the first woman to run the Utah Triple Crown. A course that was well within her abilities, I was invited along more as tour guide and videographer, than to offer any real support. What transpired was my fourth time doing the Triple Crown, the two of us laughing and chatting for hours on end, and even getting a little scared of the weather descending South King’s. She went on to put up a monster time and set a standard that will be tough to beat. It was truly an honor for me to be there and witness how strong she is in the mountains, especially on technical terrain.

Later in the year she asked if I’d like to tag along and pace/crew her on her attempt to set a women’s FKT (Fastest Known Time) on the 100 mile long White Rim trail of Canyonlands National Park. As is my way, I asked if I could just pace her the whole 100 miles, to which she graciously agreed. She ended up being my anchor for that run for more than 65 miles before I was able to be of any real benefit to her. I dealt with stomach issues for over 30 miles. Luckily, as is my way, I fully rallied that last 20 miles and was even able to really help her the last 15 or so. Her time of 21:54:30 will be a tough standard to beat, I can tell you that. Ultimately, I'm grateful to have been there to witness her first 100 and set a new FKT.

I’m not sure I can recall how many times Matt Williams has dropped everything to crew, pace, or just show up to a race or adventure run in support of me. He’s probably invested more money in my running success than he has in his own. Without a doubt he is the most selfless person I know. I committed to him that if I ran a respectable enough time at Buffalo Run 100 in March that I’d pace him at the Bryce 100, line-to-line. What would transpire would define who I really wanted to become as a runner and set the standard for the outright best moment of running for me in my entire life. It would take nothing short of a miraculous adventure with close friends to beat what happened at Bryce.

If you haven’t read the race report, understand that what me, Matt, Scott, and Josh did at Bryce was monumental. Running 100 miles, line-to-line, together is nearly a statistical impossibility. Our goal going in was to run together for as long as possible and then spread out as people got tired and needed to fall off the pace. My personal commitment was to stick with Matt the entire way, as it would be his first 100 miler. To none of our surprise we were all still together at mile 33. And then still together at the turn-around at mile 50. I remember coming out of the aid station at Pink Cliffs (mile 55) telling the boys that unless something major happened to one of us that we’d go the full distance together, something that still seemed impossible at the time. Finally, at Blubber Fork (mile 75) we knew we had it in the bag. Fast or slow, walking or running, we would go the full distance together. We crossed the line, hand in hand, and all fell into tears with the joy of our accomplishment.

Bryce 100 redefined me as a runner. Because of that running with friends and being a part of their accomplishments became more important to me than my own. Sure, I’m still driven to run fast and test myself, but none of those accomplishments, whether in the past or the future, will hold as much value for me as simply the time I get to spend in the mountains or desert with my friends. Our collective success is what matters to me now. We don’t have to be running together to share it, we simply need to be there for each other, to support each other, for it to hold such great value. And going forward, I know that my failures in running and racing will always be less important than watching the successes of my friends. With that lesson now firmly embedded in my running character I look forward to 2014 with all the optimism in the world.

Let’s go get it Wranglers!!!

Thank you to my sponsors who have been more than gracious to me this year. 

Altra Zero Drop shoes - by far the best running shoe ever made.

Ultraspire - hydration at its absolute best.

Gnarly Nutrition - electrolyte drink additive and recovery powder that is sent from the running Gods. 

Monsters in the Shadows

-Zac Marion

As the early morning casts its shadow across the valley, my mind is taken to years past when childhood imaginations ran wild with thoughts and even occasional sightings of monsters and wild things lurking just beyond the light. Time has faded away the fears of fangs, claws and fictional beasts, replacing them with equally daunting grown up monsters.

Just this morning, while traveling to meet up with some great friends for a run, I reflected on driving that same route in similar conditions a year ago. The jagged ridges and peaks had cast equally terrifying shadows as these mountain sized monsters lurked in the darkness of a pre-dawn glow. Their intimidating switchbacks, never ending hills and rough terrain was a far cry from the comfort of my road running. Trail running had become the creeping monster literally hiding in the shadows.

Over the course of three years, I had worked myself from extremely unhealthy to an extremely mediocre road runner. I enjoyed my mind numbing rhythm. I enjoyed my attention to pace. I enjoyed the same routes with houses and stop lights that never changed. I was comfortable in knowing what was coming. Aside from the occasional side cramp, there were no surprises and nothing to fear.

I had only really been on one trail, and just a handful of times at that. It was a 9.89 mile out and back route with a grand total of 500ft of elevation change. It was probably the hardest run I did through my training, and the slowest. I never found a steady rhythm. That ridiculous climbing was messing up my pace. All the twists and turns had me lost. And day to day, the trail was constantly changing on me. I never knew what to expect or even knew where I was most of the time.

I was afraid of what I couldn’t succeed at. I was afraid of these seemingly insurmountable tasks. I tried to hide under the comfort of my road running, but I knew they were still out there… haunting me.

But how do you conquer your fears? You face them. Head on. You peel back the covers and peer into the dark corners and shadows. You accept what is or is not there and you stand up to it. You struggle and fight until the beast has succumbed.

It’s funny how personal reflection can be the night light that exposes those fears for what they were. Fear is just your imagination and personal intimidations getting the best of you. I look back on what I originally feared in trail running and ironically they have now become my favorite aspects of the sport.

It’s nice to get lost and forget about everything else, excepting what the trail will bring you. All of the curves and dramatic elevation changes are character that makes every trail experience unique. And it’s something that ought to be enjoyed because whether it is mud, snow, erosion or fallen trees, it will not be the same when you come back tomorrow. I have rarely experienced a greater reward than getting to the top of a peak and peering down 3,000 ft below and looking at the miles of ups and downs that it took to get there.

I look forward to today’s adventure as I get closer to those dark shadows that draw me in. It’s a new day in a usual place. A place where I can run and play where the wild things are.