>>> "Tom Noll" <tomnoll@micron.net> 09/20/00 10:09AM >>>
Greetings:

Attached below is my Wasatch 2000 trip report.

___________________

How far is a mile?
Well, you learn that right off.
It's peculiarly different from ten tenths on the odometer.
It's one thousand seven hundred and sixty steps on the dead level and if you
don't have anything better to do you can count them.
It's at least ten and maybe a million times that on the hills."
--Terry and Renny Russell

I went to Wasatch primed to run my butt off for a very quick finish, but
instead struggled through with a friend who paced all the way from Lamb's to
the finish.  Basically, I played my hand poorly at the start and had to play
each remaining card just right to finish.

It was warm at the start so I chose to start in a short-sleeve CoolMax bike
jersey.  Last year I made the same clothing selection and I was cool but
comfortable when I reached the ridge.  This year it was far cooler and
windier.  When I looked at my watch above Chinscraper I noticed that the
temperature was in the 30s.  I was very cold and all of my calories were
being used for body warmth.  In fact, I had stomach growls at the ten-mile
mark - not a good sign.

I made it to Grobben's Corner in good time and on to Francis Peak in nearly
the same time as last year.  The long descent to the Francis Peak
maintenance shed always taxes my downhill fortitude and burns up precious
quad reserves.  On to Bountiful B and I was slower than last year and I
think it was due to the cool weather.  Leslie, Donna, and Anne gave me some
food as well as a capilene turtleneck at the B.  Betsy Nye remarked that my
crew was really together.  Leslie or Donna would meet me before the aid
station and walk me through handing up food and drink.  I was very lucky and
again and I remarked to Betsy about how fortunate I was to have friends who
so willingly come out to support me in these endeavors.  I still can't
believe my good fortune.

The stretch from Bountiful B through Sessions and on to Swallow Rocks and
Big Mountain is very nice.  The climbs and the views are wonderful.  This
year I took a Camelback pack from Bountiful B because I ran short of water
in the past.  I hooked up with Tom Hayes from Montana and we talked about
running, trails, mutual friends, mountains, love, math, statistics, and all
the other topics that one discusses on a long traverse.

It was cool on the ridge and the Popsicles at Swallow Rocks remained in the
coolers until Sundance.  At Big Mountain I met my crew and they resupplied
me and sent me on.  The trip to Alexander was breezy and dry.  Even though
it was not hot I would not be surprised if people became dehydrated because
the air was so dry.  At Alexander I met Donna Stice and she paced me on to
Lamb's.  I was still feeling good even though I was moving slower than last
year.  Donna was a great pacer and we breezed through that section and even
laughed together as I slipped in the mud and stumbled through the brush.

I met some other Salt Lake friends at Lambs and Hank Armantrout took over
the pacing responsibilities.  The crew worked on my feet briefly and we took
off up the road.  On the Bare Ass Pass climb I met Mike Mitchell on the
trail.  I remembered Mike from Leadville in '98 and Wasatch in '99.  We
talked about how in the past we had made vows that we would never, ever,
enter another one of these events.  Mike had even tried to build in peer
pressure to hold him to the promise.  Still we were both on the trail, and
my bet is that you will see each of us on the 100-mile trails again.

At Elbow Fork I met Leslie and she gave me some more clothes.  I noticed
that others weren't feeling the chill like me and I began to wonder about my
energy reserves.  I ate some food at Big Water and Hank and I continued on
to Dog Lake.  Just like last year, we heard owls hooting to each other on
the trail down from Dog Lake.  I tried to run some of the trail up to
Desolation but all I could manage was a fast walk.  It was getting dark and
I was sinking down.

There was a fire ban in effect due to the dry conditions and the stop at
Desolation was chilly.  The propane heaters were not quite enough and we
continued on up to the ridge. Usually the ridge would be my favorite part of
the whole trip but that night I was cold and tired.  I looked at the stars
and the lights but my psyche was low and I was unable to fully appreciate
the wonder of my surroundings.  I saw several meteors and made the same wish
with each falling star.

At Brighton I knew that I was spent and capable of making poor decisions.  I
wanted to quit but I told myself that I would sleep for two hours before
facing that choice because there was still time on the clock.  One thing
that I have told myself in the past is to mentally catalog the conditions
that will lead to dropping and only drop if those circumstances occur.  The
conditions for me are physical harm or being pulled from the race.  At
Brighton I was facing neither.

I had planned to sleep in the back of our truck but the Brighton aid station
had a sleeping room and I left Hank, Brith, and Leslie in the main room
while I went into the Zzzzzs room.  Several times Leslie came in to ask if I
was ready to continue.  Finally she said, "If you drop, you will be very
disappointed with yourself."

Her words registered in my mind and led me to think about Leadville and
other runs.  I thought that the pain to finish will be short-lived, but DNF
is a pain that can endure.  I thought that even if I dogged it all the way
to Sundance, the pain to finish will last only 12 hours or so, but the pain
of a DNF will gnaw at me for a long time.  And I thought of an article in
the Denver Post where Ken Chlouber described a Leadville DNF.  He said he
was spent and sitting on the side of the trail crying, it was a pitiful
sight and he would never forget that moment.  I did not want to experience
one of those unforgettable moments.  I got up and went back to the main room
at the Brighton Lodge, ate five servings of hash browns with ketchup, and
Leslie and Brith pushed Hank and I out the door and onto the trail again.

As Hank and I headed up to Point Supreme, Hank said that tourist ladies in
plaid pants and tennis shoes climb the trail, and Hank said several times on
the trail "Pick up the pace Tom, I think I hear the tourist ladies gaining
on you!"

We checked off the last three big climbs one by one - Point Supreme, The
Grunt, and Point Contention.  We clicked off the gnarly downhills too -- Ant
Knolls, Mill Canyon, and the final "tree-swinging" descent into Sundance.
At Pole Line Pass I asked for a blanket and slept again for 25 minutes.  We
passed the sign to Pot Hollow but we didn't have the time to fully explore
that trail and satisfy our curiosity.

On the way down to Mill Canyon we heard a gun shot and later found a spent
shotgun shell on the trail.  Hank talked about running and hunting with his
breakdown shotgun in his pack.  He may be the only local grouse hunter who
hunts the trails and woods in lycra tights and running shoes.  Hank picked
up the spent shell to place it on the hunter's car.  Our regret was that we
did not have a small bag of shot.  We could place the BBs in the spent shell
and the hunter would think an old Indian spirit had carefully set things
right as in Jeremiah Johnson.  The time that Hank and I spent on the trail
last weekend was special.

By Alpine Loop it was full-on daytime.  Again Brith and Leslie tended to our
needs, Hank and I played with the dogs Chester and Maizey, and then we were
back on the trail for the final section of the tour.

The essence of the run was summed up at the finish.  As I came into the
finish area I saw my friend Ted at the start of the final grassy section.  I
hadn't seen Ted since the short three-mile flat section at the beginning of
the race.  As I ran by I said "It was not the race that I had planned" and
Ted replied, "You're here."

I worked harder to finish Wasatch 2000 than I have for any other 100.

Tom Noll

Boise, Idaho