Last year during my 100 mile race I had a VERY rough go of things. Like a jackass, I messed with new nutrition the day of the race and paid the price to the tune of throwing up for hours at multiple aid stations. The kind folks at the aid stations helped me so much last year I felt compelled to buy them a keg of beer for their annual volunteer meeting. Seriously thoughtful and stubbornly loving they helped me through some dark times last year. Once I got to the last aid station before the turn around spot last year, I met a cowboy named Matt at the Elk Camp Aid Station. Matt was a no bullshit kind of guy with a GREAT good ol' boy sense of humor. He told me some of these runners were unbelievable in their requests and demands and hipster mustaches . We laughed a few times together when runners would roll into the aid station with their dramatics. As I left the aid, I told Matt that if I came back to the race in 2016 I would rather stay with him than stay in Sheridan like most did during the race weekend. This wasn't a Brokeback Mountain kind of thing, just a mutual respect thing. Matt had a wild, tough and pretty wife who was running the 100 too. She just happened to be hours in front of me!
I kept in touch with Matt and told him that I would be coming to stay with him and his family this year. I really can't tell you why I made this call. All I can say was I was very tired of hotel rooms and didn't want to be in downtown Sheridan where they had a "Country" music festival and every Darryl and his cousin were there. I made quick work of packet pickup and left Sheridan for Dayton, where Matt and Keri lived. I arrived to a beautiful home on a bunch of land. Matt and Keri had two boys and Matt's parents were in town too. Keri was to run the 50 mile race during the race weekend so the family was in preparation mode. Not only that, to fully stock the aid station that Matt and my new friend Nathan were working, they hauled 15 pack horses up there with all their gear.
I slept out under the stars the night before the race. I didn't want to be too much of a bother to the family I was staying with. They treated me like royalty but I was still "the random dude who was camping in their backyard".
Somehow, it all worked out perfectly. Friday, I was up with the sun on race morning and went about putzing around to get my gear together. Starting at 11:00 AM and being super close to the race start helped the casualness.
This was also a time to pre tape my feet and apply a new chaffing balm that I was desperately hoping would work better than the bullshit I had used on the 77 mile Foothills trail a few weeks before. As Matt, Nathan and crew had already left for the aid station, Keri and friend drove me to the start line. After some last minute adjustments and a last minute call to my Wife, Kristen and my girls, we were off at 11:00 AM on the dot. I knew how hot it could be so I relished in the fact that it wasn't Africa hot.
Because i'm sporting a beer gut these days and my running training was rubbish leading up to the race, I took off at a very conservative pace. I mean ALOT of people were in front of me and I was ok with that. I was going to run "my race" from the start and I was pleased to see my first mile was about 12 minutes. I was even more pleased when about three miles into the race, someone turned to me and said: Pete, shouldn't you be up front a little more than this? I think that I mumbled something to the effect of "It's a long race".
As the day progressed and the miles kept on, my nutrition plan was working to a T. As I had no pacer or no crew, I needed to be responsible for myself and stay on top of fluids and caloric intake. I vividly remembered the course from the previous year and I was aware that it was even prettier this year. Or, I appreciated it on a different level this year. Or, I wasn't projectile vomiting so I had more time to stop and smell the wildflowers which were all over the place. This wild country has a voice and if you listen hard enough you will hear whispers of people before you. Me and my fellow runners were in footsteps of many adventurous people before us including wild Indians.
After sneaking through the checkpoint where I had become violently sick the year before, I next came on Matt's cowboy checkpoint. He was having some horse issues and I got to just say a quick hey to the crew but I told them I was feeling strong and would see them in a few hours as I would return again after reaching the high point of the course. So with one more cup of broth, I was gone like the wind. Well, not really, I probably looked more like your Grandpa running at this point in the game.
I reached the half way point in a good time and I was pleased with where I was at. I knew it was to be really hot the next day so I wanted to get in as many miles as possible before the sun crested the ridges of the Bighorn mountains. Knocking out aid stations, I soon felt the first sun on my face. Holy shit, it was hot by about 7:30 AM. It would get to be 97 degrees this day and I went from avoiding water while keeping feet dry, to seeking out anything that looked remotely wet. I would draw my limits at the questionable water in an old abandoned bath tub right on the course.
The chaffing gel was working flawlessly, my nutrition plan was working great and I was getting into a trained mode of confidence and realistic expectations. At about mile 70, I knew I was gonna rock this thing. I was being really careful on the down hills, which is normal for me. I was attacking the up hills with everything I had. If I were to have to tell you one thing that was going wrong during my race to that point, I would've been hard pressed. It was a "little tough" when I was expecting 5 miles left and a nice man at the aid station says "looking good young man, you only have 12.5 miles to go until the finish". I wanted to drop kick this sweet old man in the balls. I didn't and continued on, probably like your Grandma at this point.
I got my trusty grape flavor icicle from a sweet family along the course about 98 miles in. I then saw all the folks that I was staying with since I was running past their house about 99 miles into the race. They were already unpacked from their duties. They put a smile on my face with a hardy cheer and I was about 10 minutes from the finish. Turning the corner into Dayton Park does not get old. After 30 hours straight on my feet, it was sort of a blurry scene but a beautiful one at that. I finished in 30 hours and 14 minutes. I really wanted to get a sub 30 hour but I was so proud of my effort and my smarts with this race. I ran an efficient, well planned mountain 100 mile race and as usual it didn't take me long to realize I got EXACTLY what I deserved in regards to training or lack there of. I had left it all on the course and was thankful to finish strong!
Matt's wife Keri finished the 50 mile race (4th Female!!) and our makeshift crew put a few blankets down and grabbed a few beers. I should say I was handed a few beers. After intermittingly soaking in the Tongue River we shared stories and laughs. As a professional grade people watcher, I really got a kick out of the scene. I certainly feel closer to the older ultra runners than the new hipsters but each person brings their own color to the race and I appreciate them for that. It's fun to watch people finish and begin the suffering of stopping!!!
I wore Altra shoes. I ran in one pair of Farm to Feet Socks. I used A Whoop Fitness Band, At night, I burned a Fenix headlamp and a couple other things. Infinit Nutrition was unreal. I mean unreal. No stomach issues all day. Boudreaux's Butt Paste is the bees knees. I should've had sunglasses and a fucking crew looking back, but who likes to do that? Swayze wouldn't do that. Lastly, I dedicate my run to TEAM LEVI.
Till next time,
Peter Ripmaster
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