Pick your new Grand Slam hero: a tennis player who wins four tournaments in eight months, or a runner who
         completes four 100-mile races within a period of 10 weeks -- and at a faster clip than anyone before him.
             Ian Torrence isn't reaping endorsements and million-dollar contracts for his record-breaking Grand Slam triumph
         earlier this year, but that's hardly what drove the Moab runner to take a shot at one of ultra-distance running's supreme
         challenges.
             Between late June and early September, Torrence ran four of the country's oldest 100-milers, knocking more than 23
         minutes off the four-year-old record for the feat despite battling an injury before one race, requiring oxygen at the end of
         another and receiving an intravenous infusion after a third.
             "It was tough," said Torrence. "You're just tired of traveling, living out of a suitcase, getting yourself beat up. But
         after it's done, it's great."
             Torrence's season is not yet over. On Saturday, he will compete for the ninth time in the John F. Kennedy 50-mile Run
         in Hagerstown, Md., his home state. Since completing his first JFK 50-miler eight years ago, Torrence, 30, has gone on
         to run more than 100 ultra-distance races.
             But before this summer, he had never strung so many 100-milers together in such a short time. After missing last
         season because of a hip-flexor injury, Torrence decided a year ago to bite off this season's Grand Slam.
             "It is only January," he wrote in an online journal he wrote for UltraRunning Magazine, "yet I've already completed
         what I think to be one of the hardest steps of the entire Grand Slam. I've managed to get all four race applications filed on
         time."
             His quest would start in late June with the Western States Endurance Run in Squaw Valley, Calif. Three weeks later,
         came the Vermont 100-Mile Endurance Run in South Woodstock, Vt. Then four weeks after Vermont, Torrence would
         tackle the Leadville Trail 100 in Leadville, Colo. After only three weeks' rest, he faced the toughest race of all: Utah's
         own Wasatch Front 100-Mile Endurance Run.
             Committing in advance is part of the allure of the Grand Slam, says Torrence. In ultra running, you can't
         spontaneously decide to go for the Grand Slam after finding yourself on track for a hot season. Registration for the
         Western States opens in mid-November. The Wasatch 100 is already accepting applications for next September's event.
         The Wasatch fills up fast and organizers don't allow late entries, even if other runners drop out.
             "You've got to make a commitment, you've got to do it and you've got to do it like everyone else," Torrence said.
             Torrence's Slam attempt got off to a grand start when he knocked more than 1 1/2 hours off his previous best time at
         Western States. He finished eighth in 18 hours, 27 minutes and 28 seconds.
             But failing to eat or drink enough late in the race slowed him to a shuffle in the last 10 miles. It took him almost 18
         minutes to cover the last 1.1 miles. Medical staff at the finish line administered two liters of IV fluid, saving him a trip to
         the hospital.
             Next up was Vermont. Ten days before the race, Torrence reinjured his hip flex while on the job as a national-park
         ranger. He figured Vermont was out. It hurt to walk, let alone run. But at the urging of his girlfriend, archeologist Anne
         Raney, he decided to give it a shot.
             Sure enough, shortly into the race, the hip flexor tweaked on him on a long downhill stretch. If he couldn't run half an
         hour, how was he going to run 100 miles?
             But the hip flexor eventually settled down, then became a moot point. "After 50 miles, everything hurts anyway," said
         Torrence, who pulled off an eighth-place finish in 16:58:06.
             A week before the Leadville 100, run at elevations between 10,000 and 12,000 feet, Torrence headed to Colorado to
         begin acclimating to the altitude. With Hal Koerner, second-place finisher the previous year, Torrence trained on the
         course and ran several 14,000-foot peaks.
             On race day, Torrence ran strongly for the first 80 miles, then struggled, unable to eat anything for the remainder of
         the race. "It was just like a death march for the last 20 miles," he said. "I think the altitude caught up with me."
             He finished sixth in 20:38:42, then sucked back a bottle of oxygen.
             Three weeks later, Torrence stood on the start line of the Wasatch 100. To break the Grand Slam speed record, he
         needed to finish in less than 22 hours, 41 minutes. After getting lost about mile 30, he figured his chances were shot.
             "I'd just passed some people, made up some time, then I missed a hard left and I went down this ATV trail," Torrence
         said.
             The lack of footprints finally tipped him off. The detour -- and the tough hike back uphill -- cost Torrence 10 minutes.
         He tried to stay cool and resist the urge to force the pace to catch up. It was only at the final aid station that Torrence
         knew the record was his. He had almost two hours to cover the last seven miles.
             He crossed the finish line in 22:18:31 to set a new time record of 78:22:47, placing fourth overall in his first
         appearance at the Wasatch.
             "Wasatch was my best race," Torrence said. "I didn't have issues like at the Western, stomach problems like at
         Leadville and I wasn't injured like I was at Vermont."
             With the Grand Slam record under his belt, Torrence has no plans to try the feat again. He's glad to be free of the
         summer's regimented schedule. He has penciled in only two 100-milers for next year.
             "By Wasatch, I was totally mentally blown out," he said. "Before the race, I just didn't want to be there. I think it had a
         lot to do with the pressure I was putting on myself, trying to beat the record. I was tired. I was glad to be done."
             Still, if someone breaks his record, he says he could be lured back. And then there's his belief that he could have done
         better.
             "If I hadn't blown up at Western," he said, "if I didn't have that injury at Vermont, if I had managed myself a little
         better at Leadville or hadn't taken that wrong turn at Wasatch . . . "
             Don't slam the door on Torrence's Grand Slam aspirations just yet.
*********************************************************************************************
Wasatch 100 Story - by Ian Torrence (from Ultraunning.com)
The Wasatch Front 100-Mile Run: The Final Chapter
 Dreams Do Come True
 By Ian Torrence

 Labor Day weekend found me traveling four hours north, a week before the Wasatch Front 100 Mile. My purpose was to etch
 in my mind the last 60 miles of a course I’d never seen. I pulled into Salt Lake City and crashed all weekend long at Nate
 McDowell’s (my excellent pacer from Western States) and Petra Pirc’s apartment. Little did I know I’d be running that Friday
 with the next winner and course record holder of the Wasatch 100. Nate and I ran the scenic stretch of trail from Upper Big
 Water (mile 61) to Brighton (mile 75). We ran the section in 2:15, a nice training run—or so it seemed. It turns out Nate
 would run the same stretch only five minutes slower come race day. Now we know how he won the race!

 Saturday arrived and I covered the miles between Big Mountain (mile 38) and Lamb’s Canyon (mile 53) with the Hardrock 100
 Mile, Squaw Peak 50 Mile and Zane Grey 50 Mile course record holder Karl Meltzer. What did Karl do on Wasatch race day?
 He collected second place.

 Sunday started with a rap at the window. Brandon Sybrowsky had arrived in the wee hours of the morning for our 25-mile
 journey over the last portion of the course (Brighton to Midway). I bet you can guess where this story is going. That’s right;
 Brandon finished third on race day! He also completed his tenth Wasatch, a remarkable achievement.

 So what about me? Having seen the last 60 miles of the course proved to be a definite advantage in the race. In my mind,
 course familiarity was more important than being totally rested for the race. My objective was not to win the race, but to cover
 the course in less than 22 hours and 41 minutes. That was the time I needed to better the current Grand Slam “speed”
 record, held by California’s Dan Barger. The task would be tough, but I was nervously prepared for the challenge.

 I couldn’t have asked for better weather when I awoke on race morning. The entire day and night would stay cool (almost too
 cool and too windy at times), wet and overcast. The trails were slick, but I was more than happy with the wet conditions,
 rather than facing air laden in the lung-choking, blister-causing dust, which I had experienced with Brandon a week earlier.

 The start of the race was very conservative. I found myself surrounded by my training partners from the past weekend:
 Meltzer, Sybrowsky and McDowell. A long centipede of runners finally broke apart on the first climb of the day called the “The
 Chin Scraper.” I spent most of my time, until the first crew accessible aid station (Francis Peak, mile 18.5), with fellow Grand
 Slammer Greg Loomis.

 Most of the morning was glorious. We crossed ridges, climbed mountains and ran through the mountains’ new fall colors. I
 was doing well and in high spirits until I passed through Sessions aid station (mile 28). After leaving the station with a
 mouth-full of peanut butter and jelly, I missed an important left-hand turn and continued running downhill on a well-worn ATV
 trail. It wasn’t until my mouth finally became unstuck that I realized I was running where no other runners had passed. Where
 were their footprints? I did a 180 and headed back up the hill. I had just added ten minutes to my finishing time. I tried to
 relax, resisting the urge to sprint ahead and catch up to where I should have been. I settled in behind Jim Nelson and let him
 take me over the next two large climbs. No need to get excited, right?

 I arrived at the Big Mountain aid station (mile 38), collected myself and picked up my first pacer, Susan Hunter-Yates. I
 originally met Susan when I lived in Seattle. She’s a past winner of Wasatch and proved to be excellent company on my way
 to Lamb’s Canyon (mile 53). Along the way we discovered what Wasatch mud can do when it gets wet. After a nice rain
 shower, our shoes accumulated all sorts of slime, grime and dead grass. Just what we needed in a 100-mile race—five extra
 pounds on each foot.

 At Lamb’s Canyon, Anne (my crew) had a chair, a change of socks, and food and drink ready. After a quick stop I picked up
 my second pacer, Hal Koerner, who would take me the rest of the way to Midway. Hal, a good friend, was my tour guide at
 Leadville three weeks earlier. He was intent on getting me to Midway ahead of my projected goal time.

 We ran and hiked strongly to the next aid station at Upper Big Water (mile 61). As we arrived I found my good friend and
 training partner Brandon Sybrowsky sitting in a chair waiting for my arrival. Krissy Moehl, Brandon’s pacer, fiancée of two
 days, and Montrail representative, would be accompanying him for the rest of the race. We all left the aid station together. I
 had gone from being a solo runner, alone on the remote Utah trails, to part of a group comprised of four joyful souls. We
 would stay together for the remainder of the race.

 We crossed Red Lover’s Ridge (mile 68) as the sun began to set behind the clouds that had enshrouded us all day. The
 winds really began to pick up there. We did not delay and headed quickly to Brighton (mile 75) for more food, clothing, and
 civilized bathrooms, equipped with a fresh supply of toothbrushes and toothpaste.

 Under the cover of night, with headlamps donned, Hal and I followed Brandon and Krissy up and over Catherine’s Pass (mile
 78). After descending some very steep and rocky trails (expletives deleted) and just before the Ant Knolls aid station (Mile
 80) we came upon Leland Barker, last year’s Wasatch winner. As he sat on a rock next to the trail, he cradled his head and
 stomach. His race was over, but not his run. After a three-hour nap he recovered to finish the race.

 The rest of the race was a blur. Knowing where I should walk and run I put it on cruise control and shut out most of what was
 happening around me. Poor Hal. I continued to check my progress against the clock as we progressed through aid stations.
 It was only at the last aid station at Pot Bottom (mile 93) that I knew I would set the new Grand Slam record. With only seven
 miles remaining and almost two hours to do it, I knew I was there. Even so, the hills seemed to grow longer and every
 descent played havoc on my knees.

 I crossed the finish line in 22 hours, 18 minutes and 31 seconds. I had set the new Grand Slam “speed” record (78:22:47)
 and placed fourth overall, behind three classy gentlemen that had taken time out of their schedules to show me the course a
 week earlier.

 I feel that Wasatch was my best “race” of the four that comprise the Grand Slam. I ran well all day, and stomach issues
 didn’t hamper me. I finished in good spirits (with no need for IV’s or oxygen). It was a pleasure and honor to receive both the
 Crimson Cheetah Buckle and the Grand Slam trophy. It was a long, difficult summer, but my toil had finally had paid off. I
 was proud that I was able to accomplish all the goals I set for myself when I first decided to commit to the Slam last winter.

 Am I psyched? More than ever! Along the way I saw some awesome country, ran with some great people, met many others,
 covered some tough miles, and cried, laughed, and cursed. I was inspired by some and cheered by others. I have many
 people and organizations to thank. I must start with my crew and main supporters: Anne Raney, Glenda Torrence, Paul
 Torrence and Jessica Torrence. I will go on to thank the pacers that joined and pushed me along the way: Justin Snow, Kevin
 Setnes, Nate McDowell, Susan Hunter-Yates, and Hal Koerner. I thank the race directors and volunteers that allowed me the
 chance to challenge myself and helped along the way, along with my fellow Grand Slammers and all other runners that
 participated in every race I ran; we all shared wonderful ultra experiences together. I also thank all those who wrote to me
 during the course of this endeavor to pass on advice, encouragement and enlightenment. I cannot forget my supporting
 sponsors: Montrail, Patagonia, Clif Bar, Petzl and Smart Wool. I also would like to thank Don Allison and UltraRunning
 magazine for the opportunity to share my Grand Slam experience with all of you.
*****************************************************************************************************
Wasatch -2002   John Medinger story
 "I've never been happier to see an aid station in my entire life," Kirk Boisseree said upon reaching Big Mountain at mile 39.

Teeth chattering and soaked to the skin, he was among many who arrived in a state of extreme disarray.  "It was just brutal up there," he continued, referring to the exposed ridge tops between Swallow Rocks and Big Mountain, "sideways sheets of rain, howling winds, and then hail."  The remnants of a tropical storm bumped into an unusually cold air mass, causing blustery, unsettled weather, the worst conditions seen at Wasatch since the torrential rains of 1992.  The intense afternoon squalls gave way to a cold, gusty, but mercifully dry night.  Approaching dawn on Sunday, things really got weird.  A fierce thunderstorm-at 6 in the morning--added a rush of adrenaline to the majority of competitors that were still out on the course.  Following the pre-dawn fireworks, a steady light rain fell for most of the second day, turning the already-difficult trail into a muddy, sloppy, and often-treacherous  passage.

None of this seemed to faze Nate McDowell.  McDowell, who recently was awarded a Ph.D. in tree physiology and moved to Salt Lake City only three weeks prior to the race, pulled into Lambs Canyon (mile 53) with former winner Karl Meltzer. There is a legendary jinx on the first runner to arrive at Lambs Canyon, the race's figurative half-way point.  "Legend has it that the first runner to Lambs never wins," McDowell said.  "Both Karl and I were aware of it and we sort of joked about who should go in first.  We eventually decided to just go in together. "

McDowell pulled away from Meltzer about a mile after Lambs Canyon.  "Karl was starting to have stomach problems and I felt really good going over Bear Ass Pass," he said.  "Other than getting a little bonky by Desolation Lake, I ran as hard as I could all the way over to Brighton."

 "Catherine's Pass was brutal," McDowell continued, "I was getting dizzy and spacey, but once we got to the top I started to feel better.  Scott (pacer Scott Jurek, four-time Western States winner) kept me really focused.  He wouldn't even let me talk about anything but the race, other than the weather."

McDowell rocketed through the last section of the course at break-neck speed, having by far the fastest splits of anyone on the technical downhil  sections toward the end.  "I knew I had a shot at breaking 20 hours and I was just going for it.  I don't know how I got through there without breaking an ankle."

 Jurek was impressed.  "I could barely keep up with him on the down hills," he noted.  "He was in a zone and really flying."

McDowell broke Meltzer's course record of 20:08 set in 1998 on the "Midway finish", a route that is widely acknowledge to be significantly faster than either the "Sundance finish" or the current route, which finishes at The Homestead Resort.  In so doing, he became just the fourth runner in the history of the race to run the second half of the course faster than the first.  The previous three to accomplish this feat all finished in over 30 hours.

 Former winner Leland Barker was stunned.  "Just unbelievable," he said. "I think he might have been under 19 on the old Midway finish."

Defending women's champion, Betsy Nye, of Tahoe City, California led the women 's race from wire to wire.  "Pam (Reed) was pretty close for a long time.  I figured she must have tired legs," Nye said. "She's had such an unbelievable summer."

 "My stomach got funky and I slowed down a lot after Brighton.  Roch Horton told me to mix mashed potatoes and avocado, which was about the only thing that worked.  That, and about a hundred GUs."

 "The stretch from Rock Springs to Pot Bottom, they said it was 5.7 miles.  Last year I got really discouraged in there; it just took so long.  This year I knew what to expect."  She laughed and then added, "That didn't mean I wasn't cursing Irv (course architect Irv Nielsen, whose official title in race hierarchy is 'Prince of Rocks') or that I don't think it really is more like 8 miles. "

 "Repeating is really nice," she added, noting "Susan Yates, Ruth Zollinger and Petra Pirc were all injured and Laura (Vaughan) wasn't able to come because her son was sick.  They would all have been tough so I was a little lucky."

 "But the best part was that it didn't start raining again until just after I finished.  Plus," she added with a laugh, "I was in bed and my husband (Rob Kronkhyte) was still out there running!"

Nine runners, led by Moab, Utah's Ian Torrence, completed the summer Grand Slam (Western States, Leadville, Wasatch, and either Vermont or Old Dominion).  Torrence's cumulative time of 78 hours, 22 minutes is the fastest ever recorded for the Slam.  Joining him were three Californians, Paul Schmidt, Jeff Sauter and Matthew Moore, along with Greg Loomis from Virginia, Luis Guerrero from Mexico, Georgia's Roger Ackerman, Bill Rideg of Montana, and the lone female slammer, Jeannine Carlson of Massachusetts.  Sam Voltaggio of Texas also completed all four 100s and threw in a fifth one just for fun.

 Brandon Sybrowski, Tim Spence, Tim Seminoff, Paul Schmidt, and Nick Bassett all finished the race for the 10th time.  For Sybrowski it was the culmination of a very special week.  He announced his engagement to ultra star Krissy Moehl two days before the race.

 As usual there were at least as many stories as there were competitors.  The freakish weather dominated the post-race conversation.

Gordon Hardman tells a typical tale.  "I was running with Keith Baker, and we rounded Point Contention at about 7:30 am Sunday to find the whole sky ahead filled with the deepest black menacing storm clouds you can imagine.  As we headed down to the aid station, lightning started hitting the ridge to our left. There was no delay at all between the flash and the boom.  Very, very close.  Hail started coming down pretty hard, so hard it hurt when it hit your face. We more or less sprinted down to the trees, calf-deep in brown water, figuring an aspen tree was as good a target as we were, so getting to the trees was kind of spreading out the odds a bit. I never would have guessed that I had that kind of speed left in my weary legs. When we got there I looked at Keith and said, 'That was WAY motivational, wasn't it?' "

The aid station volunteers suffered mightily in the weather, too, often huddled under a flimsy lean-to while handing out encouragement along with the food and drink.  It is difficult to single out any one group, but certainly the aid stations toward the end of the race had the worst of it  by far.

 Many more runners commented on the difficulty of the new finish at The Homestead Resort.  "It was so sloppy, a lot like skiing through the mud, only with  big rocks in the way," Rob Kronkhyte said.  "Hey, there are sections of trails with names like The Dive and The Plunge.  Throw in two inches of rain, and you know it's going to be gnarly."  Several other runners were asked by this correspondent to comment; the words "fiendish" and "diabolical" were commonly applied, as well as several others not fit to print in this publication.

The most inspiring story was that of Corey Larrabee.  Larrabee, 26, from Salt Lake City, finished the race in 33:44, running step for step with his father, Stan.  That in itself would be a nice story, but there's so much more.  Two and a half years ago, Corey Larrabee discovered bumps in his right leg, which turned out to be a rare form of sarcoma.  In the surgery that followed, two of the four quadricep muscles were removed.  Only 10 days after the surgery, his family took him to a picnic near Big Water, on the same day as the Wasatch Front 100.  A former competitive collegiate runner, Larrabee was inspired by what he saw.  "This is something I'm going to do," he said at the time.  Radiation and chemotherapy followed, and it was more than a year later before he was able to start running.  At the beginning of the year he was able to start jogging-at first only 10 minutes every other day.  He talked his father into running with him and the rest is the kind of history that makes all of us proud to be associated with this special sport.

 Grant Holdaway has finished this race several times before.  Earlier this year he was hit by a bicycle traveling at high speed and it shattered his cheekbone.  At age 71, he thought maybe he was through, but would not be dissuaded from giving it his all.  Along the way, he missed the time cutoff at Brighton, but was allowed to continue unofficially.  He did make it to the finish in a little more than 37 hours-more than an hour after the official end of the race-and arrived at the finish line near the end of the post-race awards ceremony.  His timing was exquisite and he received by far the loudest ovation of any runner.

 Race winner McDowell was impressed.  "This is a hard-ass race," he said. "The true ultra runners are the ones still out there at the very end."
*************************************************************************************************************
September 14, 2002
Cancer patient resolves to run 100-mile mountain endurance race
 BY JANET RAE BROOKS       -                THE SALT LAKE TRIBUNE
                       Just 10 days after Corey Larrabee had half his
                    cancerous front thigh muscle removed, his family
                    took him on a picnic in the Wasatch Mountains to
                    get him out of the house.
                        That sunny fall day happened to be the start of
                    the annual Wasatch 100-Mile Endurance Run.
                    Seeing runners arrive at the Big Water aid station
                    moved Larrabee, a competitive college runner
                    until stricken by a rare form of cancer, to tears.
                        And then a wild idea hit him. On the spot,
                    Larrabee said to his wife, Amber, "This is
                    something I'm going to do."
                        He hadn't run a step in a year. He had two
                    months of painful radiation treatment ahead of
                    him. After that, there would be six months of
                    aggressive chemotherapy. Other epithelioid
                    soft-tissue sarcoma sufferers who lost part of their
                    quadriceps had been left dependent on canes.
                    Some never walked again.
                        "She thought I was crazy," said Larrabee, 26.
                        "He's always set high goals for himself," said
                    Amber Larrabee. "I thought it was a little too
                    soon, but I didn't tell him that."
                        Last Saturday before dawn, two years to the
                    day after he resolved to run the Wasatch 100,
                    Larrabee stood with 207 other competitors on the
                    Kaysville start line of one of the toughest
                    ultra-distance races in the country. His father,
                    Stan, who had completed the Wasatch five years
                    earlier, was by his side. Larrabee's wife, his
                    mother, Blyth, brothers Gared and Tyler, and two
                    college running buddies had been recruited to
                    serve as pacers.
                        Ahead of him lay 100 miles of mountain trails.
                    It was a supreme challenge, but Larrabee had
                    overcome even greater adversity to make it to the
                    start line.
                        Larrabee first noticed a bump the size of a dime
                    on his right knee about three years ago while living
                    in Cedar City. At first, he figured it was a bruise.
                    When the bump continued to grow, he saw a
                    doctor, who told him it was scar tissue and not to
                    worry.
                        Then more bumps appeared.
                        After an inconclusive biopsy, Larrabee decided
                    to move back to Salt Lake City, with his wife of
                    16 months, to work for his father, an electrical
                    contractor. Larrabee was just two courses short
                    of a degree in athletic training and sports medicine
                    at Southern Utah University, but he needed
                    medical insurance and access to big-city medical
                    care.
                        By that time, the bumps had spread from his
                    right knee to his upper thigh. A Salt Lake
                    oncologist delivered the awful news: the bumps
                    were malignant. After consultation with other
                    experts around the country, the decision was
                    made to surgically remove two of the four muscles
                    on the front of his right thigh.
                        Two months after the surgery, Larrabee started
                    high-dose radiation treatments. Together, the
                    surgery and radiation reduced his right thigh to the
                    size of his calf. A month after the last radiation
                    treatment, he started six months of chemotherapy,
                    which he finished in May last year.
                        His treatment was aggressive, said Greg Litton,
                    the oncologist who oversaw Larrabee's
                    chemotherapy. "The drugs were fairly strong and
                    had a lot of side effects," Litton said. Larrabee
                    was sick for months, lost his hair and was left
                    infertile.
                        "I felt awful," said Larrabee. "It took a long,
                    long time to feel OK again. The doctor said to
                    wait a year just to start running. I begged Amber
                    not to make me go to chemotherapy the last three
                    times."
                        Just before his final chemotherapy session,
                    Larrabee became a new dad. The Larrabees call
                    Sterling McKay their "miracle baby" because he
                    may be their only natural child.
                        In January -- less than seven months after his
                    final chemotherapy bout -- Larrabee surprised his
                    doctors by starting to run again. "After the
                    chemotherapy he had, most people take a year or
                    longer to feel halfway normal," said Litton.
                        At first, Larrabee jogged just five or 10
                    minutes, three times a week. "I usually needed a
                    day to recover, no matter how long the run," he
                    said. While he was still experimenting with
                    running, he missed the Wasatch 100 entry
                    deadline. Organizers later granted him late entry.
                    Larrabee also had to talk his father into running
                    the race with him. "I need someone to run with me
                    because I don't think I can do it alone," Larrabee
                    pleaded.
                        Although uncertain how realistic his son's goal
                    was, Stan Larrabee wasn't going to discourage
                    him. In the months leading up to the race, the pair
                    spent almost every Saturday running in the
                    mountains while Larrabee constantly questioned
                    why he was spending so much time away from his
                    family.
                        Just three weeks before the race, on a training
                    run over the final 25 miles of the course, the pair
                    struggled with the heat, then got lost and failed to
                    finish the last five miles. "It really put a lot of doubt
                    in my mind," said Larrabee.
                        As race day approached, Larrabee tossed and
                    turned at night. After last Saturday's start, he felt
                    strong for the first 40 miles, then struggled heading
                    down long, steep Alexander Ridge. Downhill legs
                    were especially difficult with his weakened leg,
                    even using trekking poles. The toughest stretch
                    was the Sunday morning leg from Rock Springs to
                    Pot Hollow. Larrabee, who had developed
                    blisters, begged his pacer, Adam Moore, to let
                    him lie down and sleep. Moore said no.
                        Still, Larrabee never doubted he would finish.
                    "I knew there were going to be really hard times, "
                    he said. "But I knew I was going to do it."
                        "He never talked about dropping out," said his
                    father. "Not once."
                        Larrabee and his dad crossed the Midway
                    finish line Sunday afternoon in 33 hours, 44
                    minutes and 43 seconds.
                        "I really wanted to finish and I wanted to finish
                    under 32 hours, but I was just happy to finish at
                    all," Larrabee said. "I'm extremely glad I can run.
                    I'm extremely glad I can walk and that I have my
                    leg."
                        His chemotherapy specialist called Larrabee's
                    achievement miraculous. "The fact he can run 100
                    miles is a miracle itself given the surgery, radiation
                    and chemotherapy he had and the fact half his
                    quadriceps muscle is gone," said Litton. "There's
                   just not too many people who can get the type of
                    tough treatment Corey got and do that."
                        Larrabee says that running the Wasatch was far
                    easier than his battle against sarcoma. And after
                    proving to himself he has regained his health, he
                    feels he can now close a painful chapter of his life.

                        "The last two years have been really hard,"
                    Larrabee said. "Now I feel I can do something
                    else." !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
                       "I'm extremely glad I can walk and that I have
                    my leg."
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Posted on Runners World Form for Ultra Trail Runners:
"WOW! To those of you who have ever run a 100 miler, WOW!!! I am unworthy!
   I spent this last weekend as an aid station worker at the Pole Line Aid Station (Mile 83) for the Wasatch 100. A very emotional and uplifting experience that I would highly recommend to anyone.  The race started at 5:00 am. Of course, since our aid station was at mile 83, we didn't need to be set up until Saturday night. My Saturday started at 4:30am when I got up to run a ½ marathon in preparation for a marathon in 2 weeks. The ½ went very well.   I got home in time to shower, and then pack the truck for the weekend. My assignment was cots, pads and sleeping bags for the runners, lots of drinking water pans for boiling water. As it turned out, all of these things were very beneficial for the runners.  It was raining very hard all morning Saturday, well really all day, with just a few breaks during the day. There was also very strong winds and hail, especially up in the mountains where the runners were.
     We met to drive up at about 4:00. On the way up, we drove by the Lamb's Canyon aid station (mile 52), which literally goes right underneath I-80 on its way up another steep mountain climb. It was exciting to see all the people and excitement at the aid station. We got up to our aid station at about 6:30. It is about 11 miles from the finish line up a rocky and rough dirt road, but not the road the runners used
 (obviously since they had 17 miles to the finish).   We were set up by 8:00 and awaited our first runner whom we expected around 10:00 or so. One of the real cool parts was that we had radios going at all times and laptop communication with all other aid station. So you could monitor on the laptop the progression of each runner through the various aid stations. Over the radio, you could hear the constant communication between all aid stations and the main command center. My heart would just sink every time I would hear a DNF being reported in.
     We were amazed as we were watching the progress at the speed with which Nate McDowell was progressing through the course. He was continually hitting aid stations ahead of record pace, and seemed to be gaining as he went along.  He arrived at our aid station at about 9:30 with his pacer (non other than Scott Jurek) and quickly filled his bottles and was on his way. I was amazed at how alert and fresh he was. He had been running for 16 and a half  hours over 83 miles and still looked fresh and was talking and joking with us in the aid station. I was amazed and star struck at these people as they came through.  About 40 minutes later Karl Meltzer came flying in. He was amazed that Nate was 40 minutes ahead of him as he had only been up by 30 minutes in the last aid station.  Karl also looked great and only spent a few seconds and was on his way. These guys are truly amazing!  As it turned out, Nate won by 62 minutes (the guy never let up, what an incredible display he put on).  Nate's finishing time was 19 hours 52 minutes, which was a new course record!   Ian Torrence came a little bit later looking great. He was on his way to completing his slam and looked great doing it.  So far the night had been very nice after the previous days rain and winds. Some light rain, but not too bad. Unfortunately, that wouldn't hold. About 2 or on Sunday morning, the lightening and winds started up again. There was a high ridge a few miles before our aid station. All of the runners and pacers came into our station talking of lightening strikes literally close enough to see, feel and smell. It was a very scary experience for these runners.  We had runners trickling in all through the night, most times 1 or 2 at a time, other times as many as 10 or 12 at a time. We had a spotter a few hundred yards up the trail who would radio in their numbers so that when they came into the station, we had their drop bags ready and open.   We also had a cup of coffee and/or hot cocoa and some hot broth with rice and noodles for them. All of the runners were very gracious and appreciative of our support.
We also had a tent set up with cots, sleeping bags and space heaters. We had a few runners come in during the night and would sleep 30 to 45 minutes and then would be on their way.  Leland Barker, last year's winner, was having severe problems with his stomach. This led to disorientation and dizzy spells.  His pacer was able to get him into our aid station where he was totally out of it. He slept for probably a couple of hours and then just like that, he popped up and looked and acted like the Leland that won the race last year. He geared up, ate a bit and they were on their way. He ended up finishing in very respectable time.
    About 6 in the morning, as we were preparing breakfast of eggs bacon and pancakes, (a pole line aid station tradition), the clouds gathered again and it started to pour a steady cold rain. It rained and hailed steady for the next 3 hours and then off and on through the end of the race. The rain pretty much washed out breakfast and we were just trying to keep the stove going to keep water hot for hot cocoa. The runners would come into the aid station cold sometimes bordering on hypothermia. We would try to feed and warm them up and put them in the warming tent. I really admired how these runners, after getting somewhat warmed up, were able to come out of that warm dry tent, and head on down that cold, wet and muddy trail toward the finish. I really learned the value of a good pacer in times like that. We never had any runners not leave the tent and head on down the finish.  Truly it was a great testament of the human spirit.
    The official cut-off time for the race is 5:00 pm (i.e. 36 hours). Therefore, unofficially, if runners were not through our aid station by 12:00 or so, they were most likely not going to make the cut-off. We had three runners come in between 12:30 and 1:00. After discussions, they decided that it wasn't going to happen and they decided to DNF. That was probably the saddest part of the whole thing for me, but they all had great attitudes about it and knew that there would be other races on other days.  There was still one more runner out on the course. But as she had a crew there waiting, it was decided that I would take these runners to the finish line so they could meet family and get some food and dry clothing. After taking them down this bumping, rocky and much muddier road, we arrived at the finish line. This was again an emotional time for all of us as this was not how they wanted to see the finish line. But again, they kept reminding each other that there would be other races.
    I watched a few runners finish and got teary eyed up each time one came through.  What an emotional experience! To witness the joy and fatigue in runners eyes was a great reward for anyone that wants to witness the extremes of human emotions.  Speaking of which, at this time, my body was starting to remind me that it had been up for 36 hours. As much as I would have liked to stay and watch runners finish and watch the awards ceremony, I was tired. I kept myself awake driving home by eating crackers, drinking water and talking on the cell phone. When I got into my garage, I told myself I would just close my eyes for a minute before I went into the house. An hour later I finally went into the
house!
   Observations: If anyone ever has a chance to work an aid station on one of these, jump at it.  Do I want to try and run this next year?  Now that I have had a day to ponder, the answer is definitely yes!  During the middle of the night, watching runners leave a nice warm tent in a well-lit camp with people, and heading down an extremely dark and muddy trail, I wasn't so sure.  But today, I am all pumped about it.
  If you have gotten this far, thanks for reading.
  Reg"
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BY JANET RAE BROOKS
THE SALT LAKE TRIBUNE
 9 September 20
         The curse of Lamb's Canyon struck again.
          The word among competitors in the Wasatch 100-Mile Endurance Run
      is that no runner who leads at the Lamb's Canyon aid station at mile 53 will
      win the race.
          Heading into Lamb's on Saturday afternoon, Nate McDowell and Karl
      Meltzer, who had exchanged the lead during the first half of the race, were
      suddenly doing their best to avoid the front-running slot.
          "After you," said McDowell.
          "After you," said Meltzer.
          The pair finally agreed to walk the 100-yard uphill stretch into the aid
      station together. But when they turned off the dirt road, two-time Wasatch
      champion Meltzer happened to stride up the narrow path toward the timer
      first, although both were credited with the same arrival time.
          That, apparently, was enough to set off the curse.
          About a mile past Lamb's Canyon, McDowell, who moved to Salt Lake
      City this summer from Corvallis, Ore., passed Meltzer and never saw him
      again. McDowell's winning time of 19 hours, 52 minutes, 25 seconds sliced
      20 minutes off Meltzer's course record, set four years ago on a slightly
      different course.
          "Before the race I didn't think that was going to happen," said McDowell
      of his record-breaking run in his first Wasatch 100 appearance. "Utah's
      been good to me so far."
          McDowell's split times were so fast that he arrived at Rock Springs aid
      station at mile 87 before it opened. His downtime at aid stations totaled just
      16 minutes.
          "We had Indy-style pit stops," said McDowell, who was paced by ultra
      star Scott Jurek, with Salt Lake City ultra runner Petra Pirc serving as his
      crew. "Petra gave me my stuff, gave me a hug and we just kept going."
          A total of 123 runners completed the 23rd annual edition of the tough
      100-miler through the Wasatch Mountains, with 208 setting out from the
      pre-dawn Kaysville start on Saturday. Unusually, wet weather left the
      runners worrying more about hypothermia than dehydration during the 36
      hours they had to complete the race.
          Meltzer, who tends bar at Snowbird, arrived at the Midway finish early
      Sunday morning to take second place in 20:54:18. For the first time in an
      ultra, Meltzer had stomach problems. Brandon Sybrowsky of Montrose,
      Colo., finished 15 minutes behind in third place.
          Ian Torrence of Moab completed a record-breaking Grand Slam by
      finishing fourth in 22:18:31. Eight other runners also completed
      ultradistance running's Grand Slam by completing four of the country's
      oldest 100-milers in a single summer.
          "I feel great," said Torrence. "I'm psyched. I don't think it's set in yet."
          Defending champion Betsy Nye of Tahoe City, Calif., was again the top
      female finisher. She placed 20th overall in 26:34:08.
          Tim Spence of Salt Lake City and Park City's Tim Seminoff each
      finished their 10th Wasatch races. Spence, 46, placed ninth; Seminoff, 44,
      was 40th.
          Defending champion Leland Barker of Smithfield struggled after leaving
      Brighton Lodge and finished 18th in 26:05:01. Barker took lengthy naps at
      two aid stations.
          "At that point, I figured there was no way I was going to finish under 24
      hours," Barker said. "I didn't even know if I was going to finish."
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In another related story, about 100 miles south of the race on Sunday - 9/8/02:
MANTI -- A tornado slammed the southeast end of  Manti on Sunday, destroying six homes, damaging about 50
others and temporarily snuffing out power before dissipating about 15 minutes later.   No injuries were reported.
Damage was estimated at $1 million, a figure that is expected to rise.
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By Stephen Speckman
Deseret News staff writer
9 September 2002
   Through high winds, hail, horizontal rain and lightning, 123 of 208 runners finished the 23rd annual Wasatch Front 100 Mile Endurance Run this past weekend. For Salt Lake City resident Rick Gates, 45, it was his 18th time finishing one of the most grueling ultra marathons in the country. To him, it's not about winning. "It's just about getting to the finish line," he said.
"Spending the weekend in the Wasatch Mountains is fun."
   The most fun was watching the men's division for the first 40 miles after Saturday's 5 a.m. start.
The race's former record holder Karl Meltzer, his friend Nate McDowell, powerhouse Brandon Sybrowsky and Dave Klein were on each other's heals. And only a few minutes behind was last year's winner Leland Barker.  After 53 miles, McDowell pulled away from the gang, leaving behind Meltzer, who had to fight through a bout with nausea to finish second after his running buddy.
"I had a great 75-mile race," Meltzer said. For about 25 miles from the Lamb's Canyon checkpoint to the Brighton Ski Resort, the Sandy resident struggled to "unbonk" himself and catch up with his friend. "(McDowell) had an awesome day."  McDowell bettered the old race record, 20 hours, 8
minutes, set by Meltzer in 1998, with a finishing time of  19:52.25. Meltzer, who couldn't complete last year's race, finished this year with a 20:54.18 early Sunday morning.
   "That wasn't my goal," McDowell said. "I'm a little bit baffled by it, really." McDowell moved three weeks ago to Salt Lake City from Oregon. There he was used to running in the rain and mud. He credits his pacer, an ultra marathon veteran, and his one-woman crew and girlfriend, Petra Pirc, who also has a few ultra marathon wins under her belt.  "I had a spectacular crew," McDowell said. "Every part of the equation was perfect."  Sybrowsky finished third, 22:09.17, followed by Ian Torrence, 22:18.31,  then Derek Blaylock and Kenny Jensen, who tied for fifth with a 22:25.26.  Klein
and Barker fell back to 15th and 18th.  Pirc, a former World Cup skier, was supposed to run this year's Wasatch along with several other top female runners. She was sidelined by an injury.  The field of potential winners really came down to one woman, Betsy Nye, who came in at 26:34.08. The race record, however, still belongs to Ann Trason, 22:27, set back in 1998.  Behind Nye was Tucson resident Pam Reed, winner of last July's Badwater ultra, a 135-mile run through Death Valley. Reed completed this year's Wasatch 100 with a 28:37.15.  The oldest runner to finish, albeit unofficially, was Grant Holdaway, 71, who  came in well after the 36-hour cutoff. The youngest runner to finish was 21-year-old Krista Stapp.
    Most of the field ran into what race director John Grobben called some of the worst weather the Wasatch 100 has seen in several years.  "This seems to be a lot more severe," he said, as rain poured down at the Homestead Resort in Midway, where finishers were met with cheers and hugs.  One runner reported lightning strikes that were too close for comfort. Wind gusts reached 40 mph along the course. Others slipped and slid on muddy trails as they made their way from the start near Kaysville. Still, it was all in good fun.  "I love it," Grobben said. "It makes more sense than what I really do." (He's an insurance agent.) "It's not so much about individual effort.  "This is just a whole bunch of people coming together with a common  cause." It takes scores of volunteers, ham radio operators, crew members and pacers to pull it all off. Grobben recalled one volunteer who has been helping out since she was 8 — she's now 20. "It just blows my mind when I see things like that."
Grobben has been helping organize the Wasatch 100 for 20 years.
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Link to the results for Wasatch:
WASATCH 100 MILE ENDURANCE RUN