Wasatch 100 Mile Endurance Run
6,7 September 2003
That
old trickster, that cunning joker, "Mr. Weather" came bounding
into
Utah from the Pacific Coast and the night and daytime temperatures
dropped
enough to put a smile on the participants of the 2003 version of the
Wasatch
100 Mile Endurance Run. The first 20 finishers outran the rain,
slush,
and lightning but everyone else spent a few wild hours nervously
eyeballing
the sky and trying to guess where they would be forced to face the
elements.
This monsoonal type weather pattern has a habit of adding to the
runners
list of adversities. The distance is one adversity, the ascents
and
descents are another, and the weather just comes in and adds insult to
injury. Throw a little nausea and a dash of blisters into the
mix,
and wham! What an ordeal.
But prior to starting this adventure,
"Mother Nature" came calling to Phil Lowry via a cell phone call from
his
wife a week away from the expected delivery of their next child.
This brought a wave of nostalgia back to the race committee. Jan
Cheney, one of the originators of the Wasatch 100 was pulled off the
course
in 1980 at the first checkpoint and sent rushing to the hospital where
his wife was in labor. Phil headed back home and in due course he
became the proud father of Julia Alexandra (named after Alexander
Springs
where he would have been had he not been tagged with "DNS" (did not
start).
It will make a really good tale at work when everyone asks how Wasatch
went over the weekend.
Karl Meltzer stunned the prophets
of doom who didn't think he could pull off winning Hardrock and Wasatch
in the same summer by running another great sub - 21 hour time.
Betsy
Nye also pulled off the same shocking surprise by winning at both very
difficult mountain races. This gave them 3 victories apiece at
Wasatch.
Is this the wave of the future: you must win at Hardrock to have
a chance at Wasatch?
Meltzer surrendered the lead to Kevin
Shilling
after leaving Big Mountain (39.4 miles) while controlling his pace in
the
heat of midday. After leaving Lambs 2 minutes ahead, Karl
slashed
ahead to go up by 12 minutes at Desolation Lake (66.8 miles).
Shilling
dropped between the Lake and Brighton. Meanwhile, Grand Slammer
Joe
Kulak was constantly dogging Meltzer's heels getting within 6 minutes
at
Upper Big Water (61.7 miles) and former winners Leland Barker and Tim
Spence
were only 10 to 20 minutes behind Kulak. Ken Jensen, local
Brighton
Marathon winner, was also dogging the group in front ready for a move
should
the leaders falter. The positions each runner were in as they
left
Brighton (75.6 miles) remained the same to the end except Spence pulled
ahead of Barker by Pole Line pass (83.4 mile). Meltzer
finished
ahead by an hour and 6 minutes over Kulak who had an incredible year
totally
dominating the Grand Slam record Ian Torrence set in 2002. Dana
Miller
and Karl Meltzer are the only men who have tripled at Wasatch.
Miller
leads with 5 victories.
Betsy Nye had a close race in the
beginning miles with newcomer Susan Anderson-Ayers but forged a 30
minute
lead by Big Mountain and finished with a 3 hour and 42 minute cushion
joining
Laurie Staton and Laura Vaughn as the only women with 3 or more wins.
Staton
and Vaughn are tied with 4 wins. The rest of the women in the
field
had a much closer race for second. After running as much as an
hour
behind in the beginning third of the race, Barbara Elias took control
at
Brighton and claimed second place by less than 14 minutes in front of
Anderson-Ayers.
Fourth place Lisa Smith-Batchen came in 7 minutes behind Anderson-Ayers
followed by a fast closing Rickie Redland 2 minutes later and Terri
Schneider
finished 17 minutes behind Redland.
There were three 10 year finishers
- David Blaylock, Max Bliss, and Jim Knight. The
Knight
family started out with 4 runners; three sons and their
dad.
Eighteen year old Andy showed his brothers how to get the job done
after
they DNF'd and even took bragging rights for the year edging his dad
out
by 2 seconds. Of course, with 10 finishes, it will be pretty
tough
bringing Jim down to earth in order to gloat about the 2 seconds.
With 217 starters, there are at least
that many stories that would be worth telling. Alas, no one can
really
do any of the 100 mile races justice on this account. Rick Gates,
for instance finished his 19th Wasatch and received the Spirit of
Wasatch
award for his constant love and devotion to Ultra trail running.
How do you even begin to tell the story of all those Wasatch
finishes
and the many other 100 milers completions around the country he has
done?
David Hunt, finished under
24 hours and took his dutiful place in the sappy and sentimental
Crimson
Cheetah ceremony. Only a few years ago, Hunt was just getting his
beginning trail dancing lessons from veterans like Grizz Randall.
Instead of running this year, Grizz and Ulrich Brunhart were signed up
to mark the course with ribbons and glow sticks from Brighton to Pole
Line
and their vehicle broke down on their way up to Brighton. A quick
scramble for replacements on that section allowed Grizz and Brunhart to
get a second vehicle to take them to Midway where they started
backwards
on the course to complete that section before the runners got
there.
Thanks to Doug Wahlquist and Greg Moellmer for filling in.
Patrick McMurtry redeemed himself with
a 25:03 this year after DNF'ing last year. Derek Blaylock didn't
break his personal sub 24 hour record but 26:15 would be a time most of
us would love to add to our trophy case. Tom Remkes had a solid
run
finishing in 26:36. Dana Miller snagged another sub - 30 hour
buckle
in 27:10. Brandon Sybrowsky got another finish in 27:56
even
after running a 150 kilometer race in France the previous
weekend.
Bob Henderson made our choice of "Come back Kid of the Year" with a
28:41.
Carter Williams got in under 30 hours. After years of
trying,
Jim Williamson made it under 30 hours for a very satisfying run.
Tim Seminoff ran 29:41 to add to his many runs this year. John
Diroll
added another finish in 30:39. John Moellmer added a 32:04 to his
list despite vowing never to run another one after his first
Wasatch.
Charlie Vincent ran a 32:25. Roger Adams ran 32:40. Carl
Brailsford
ran a 33:13. Jeff Lamora had a bad day but gamely kept fighting
back
to finish in 33:28. Laura Vaughn returned and ran 34:31.
Ellen
Ives ran 34:33. David Tanner ran 35:17. Colleen Ford ran in at
35:33.
Jeff Holdaway finished in 29:12.
His 72 year old father wasn't there to witness this, however.
Grant
Holdaway was still out on the course and lumbered in under the care of
two human walking sticks at 35:58. The quote that comes to mind
for
me is by R.D.Lang, "Insanity - a perfectly rational adjustment to an
insane
world."
You were thinking Grant was last, right? Well, no, that spot
went to Michael Ehrlich with 26 seconds to spare giving the crowd quite
a scare as he seemingly didn't have time but sped it up at the last
minute
to dash across the finish line like a 100 meter sprinter.
The runners suffered and their valleys of despair
were deep but somehow managed to continue on. Suffering is
optional,
as the saying goes, and makes for very dramatic stories.
Those
who suffered more than they could bear are those on the DNF list (did
not
finish). Each one tells us a good story but my favorite this year
is the excuse Mark Oftedal offered at Lambs, "Wisdom." Yes,
indeed.
Wisely done. My DNF list begins with Duane Arter who knew he was
having a bad day and didn't even wait for the first checkpoint but
dropped
at Grobbens Corner. With experience comes the wisdom to wrap up things
in a hurry. Of course, I could mention two other runners
who
didn't start, Deb Moss and Karl Ryser, but nah, why rub it in. Fred
Denys
dropped at the Maintenance Sheds. Wendell Robison dropped at Big
Mountain with the excuse he had suffered enough and lacked proper
motivation
to continue. Amen to that. Cynthia Daniels dropped at
Alexander Ridge with time slipping through her weary toes, fingers, or
blistered appendages. Steve Kissell, Kerry Strauss, Lorrie
Hutchison,
Duncan Orr, and Daniel Barnett, having received a good beating
from
the course by this time all yielded to common sense and dropped at
Lambs.
Dropping at Upper Big Water is a really good idea if you are feeling
like
a million bucks (all green and wrinkled). Shauna Heisler, Jamie
Remkes,
Curt Anderson, and Ron Christiansen gave up at this point with a great
training run in for the fall running season. Fred Riemer pushed
on
to Desolation Lake but before he got there, he was "stormed" into
submission
by the lightning and heavy rain. He opted to go back down to
Blunder
Fork, down to the Mill D trailhead where he thumbed his way up to
Brighton
and checked out of the race there. Wendy Holdaway dropped up at Scotts
Pass. Previously mentioned Mark Oftedal and Missy Berkel dropped
at Brighton. Last but not least and certainly not forgotten,
Julie
Nelson called it quits at 4 pm after forging on all the way to Pot
Hollow.
So close and yet so far away. Julie gave it all she had and you
have
to respect that attempt to battle against all the odds and not give up
until the time line was drawn in the dirt. Out of all the
millions
of people only a scarce handful even sign up for these epic
struggles.
Kudos to you, Julie, and to all who gave it their best
shot.
I am humbled to be watching you from the sidelines.
The volunteers were superb once again in
enabling the runners to finish. 134 finished. (62 percent finishing
rate
up slightly from last year).
Irv
********************************************************************************************
Wasatch 100: Meltzer, Nye claim third titles
By Janet Rae Brooks
The Salt Lake Tribune
MIDWAY -- A fan approached
Karl
Meltzer hours after the Sandy runner had collected his third victory
Sunday
in the Wasatch 100-Mile Endurance Run to ask him to pose for a snapshot.
"Got to get a picture of the
legend,"
the fan said.
It's getting to be that way.
Meltzer
took the lead Saturday afternoon just past the Lamb's Canyon aid
station,
near the halfway point of the race, and remained in front to the Midway
finish, which he reached early Sunday in 20 hours, 46 minutes. Meltzer
had won his second consecutive Hardrock 100, so he has collected wins
in
two of the nation's toughest 100-milers in a single summer.
Betsy Nye of Tahoe City, Calif.,
picked up her third consecutive Wasatch women's title, finishing 18th
overall
in 26:36. Nye even tacked on a detour of 15 minutes when she missed a
turn
before Lamb's Canyon. Mountain bikers had moved the logs placed there
earlier
by race officials to keep runners on the correct route.
Nye matched Meltzer in winning
the women's crown at Hardrock in July.
A field of 218 runners started
the 24th annual Wasatch, with 134 finishing at Midway within the
36-hour
time limit.
Joe Kulak of Lakewood, Colo.,
chopped
more than three hours off the Grand Slam record, finishing second
behind
Meltzer in 21:53. Fifteen other runners also completed four of the
country's
oldest 100-milers to earn the Grand Slam award. Kulak's cumulative time
for the four races was 75:07.
"Of the four 100s," he said, "I
feel the best after this one."
Rebounding from a head cold last
week, Meltzer arrived at the Lamb's Canyon aid station at mile 53 just
minutes behind Salt Lake City physician Kevin Shilling. Meltzer's crew
immediately doused him with water.
"I was boiling," said Meltzer.
"The sun had come out an hour before. It was instantly 20 degrees
hotter.
At least it felt that way."
When he started shivering,
Meltzer
knew he was ready to go. He passed Shilling, who later dropped out,
shortly
after leaving the aid station, then fought to stay ahead of Kulak for
much
of the remainder of the race.
Meltzer hadn't counted on Kulak
putting up such a strong fight, considering the toll he expected
Kulak's
Grand Slam attempt to have exacted.
"I totally thought I was going
to drop him," said Meltzer. "It was not the case. He was really strong."
Only after passing the 82-mile
mark did Meltzer feel his lead -- 26 minutes, at that point -- over
Kulak
would hold. With Nate McDowell, last year's Wasatch champion and course
record holder, as his pacer, Meltzer reached the Midway finish line
just
before 2 a.m.
Tim Spence of Salt Lake City
placed
third in 22:17, his 11th Wasatch finish. Two-time Wasatch champion
Leland
Barker of Smithfield placed fourth.
Brandon Sybrowsky, a Perry
native,
placed 25th, a week after finishing a tough 150-kilometer race in
Europe.
Battling residual fatigue, Sybrowsky grabbed a one-hour nap at Brighton
before crossing the finish line for the 11th time.
Rick Gates of Salt Lake City
completed
his 19th Wasatch. The youngest finisher was Andy Knight, 18. Grant
Holdaway,
72, slipped under the 36-hour time barrier by less than two minutes to
rank as the oldest finisher.
The Vineyard farmer will be back
at work today, said his son Jeff, who also completed the race: "He'll
be
out in the field picking corn tomorrow."
********************************************************************************************************
Wasatch 100 Endurance Run: Oh baby, does
Lowry have story to tell about this race
By Janet Rae Brooks
The Salt Lake Tribune
LAMB'S CANYON --
Julia Alexandra Lowry is less
than a day old, but already she is destined to become part of the lore
of the Wasatch 100.
The
8-pound,
13-ounce infant arrived in the world at 2:45 p.m. Saturday, just about
the time her father, an eight-time finisher of the Wasatch 100-Mile
Endurance
Run, would have hit Alexander Ridge, above Lamb's Canyon.
But early
that morning, Phil Lowry had scratched from the Kaysville start of the
race, after receiving a pre-dawn phone call from his wife in
Springville.
The couple's seventh child had been due next week, but things were
going
a little faster than expected, she told him. She needed to go to the
hospital
right away.
Phil Lowry
made the birth, but missed the race. So he talked his wife into naming
their new-born daughter Julia Alexandra, in tribute to the Wasatch 100
and the portion of the course -- Alexander Ridge -- he had expected to
be traversing at the time of her birth.
"This is
the next one of the Lowrys, this is No. 7, and I'm going to be able to
explain to her -- and her siblings also because they might be part of
the
Wasatch family then, too -- that I missed the race the day she was
born,"
said Lowry. an attorney. "It will be a neat story for her."
A little
extreme? Only to those not enamored of the Wasatch 100. The mountainous
point-to-point course from Kaysville to Midway is billed as "100 Miles
of Heaven and Hell." And it's probably a bit of both of those that
draws
people back year after year.
"Slurpie!"
exclaimed Dave Hunt as he pulled into Lamb's Canyon aid station at mile
53 Saturday afternoon. "Dang!"
Not only
did his support crew have a Slurpie to hand Hunt before he even sat
down,
they also had a footbath ready.
"I bet that
feels like heaven, doesn't it?" said aid station co-captain Verna
Bennion.
Hell?
That's
easy.
"Leave the
skin on! Leave the skin on!" said one of Dylan Andrews' crew as they
peeled
off a bloody sock to reveal a massive blister on Andrews' right heel.
Andrews
kept up a non-stop stream of chatter as he got patched up.
"I need to
just really hydrate," he said. "I really can't stay long. I just really
need to suck down some water and head out."
Andrews was
soon on his way, leaving his crew wondering if the patch over his
blister
would hold. Mark Colby's sons, Seth, 7, and Zach, 4, wandered around
the
aid station, waiting for Dad. Their mother, Amy, had pinned yellow
post-it
notes on the boys' T-shirts bearing their father's race number.
After last
year's Wasatch, Mark Colby asked his wife to make sure he didn't end up
on another Wasatch 100 starting line.
"He said,
'Don't ever let me run this again,' " said Amy Colby.
"And here
we are," she added good-naturedly. "This year, he wants to get below 30
hours."
Brandon
Sybrowsky
had sewn a black ribbon on his race shirt Friday night in memory of
fellow
Wasatch runner, Stephen Utley, who died in June of cancer. Sybrowsky
flew
back from Europe on Wednesday after running the 150-kilometer Tour du
Mont
Blanc last weekend. He hadn't missed a Wasatch 100 start since he first
entered the race 12 years ago.
Although
he finished third last year, race-ravaged legs slowed Sybrowsky's pace
this year.
After his
wife, Krissy Moehl Sybrowsky, rubbed his thighs with arnica gel,
Sybrowsky
got to his feet and called to Murray Schart, still sitting sipping
ginger
beer as his crew fussed over him.
"Come on,
Murray."
"I'm
coming,
I'm coming," Schart replied. "Go slow."
"I will,"
said Sybrowsky, as he set off towards Lamb's Canyon, exchanging a
high-five
with his nephew, Connor, before tackling the final 47 miles of the race.
*********************************************************************************************************
By Stephen Speckman
Deseret Morning News - Tuesday 9 Sep 2003
Amazing.
Inspirational.
And a little nuts. Grant Holdaway, 72, became the oldest finisher
ever Sunday in the 23-year history of the Wasatch Front 100 Mile
Endurance Run. Yes, he actually ran and hiked through the Wasatch
Mountains
for 100 miles, and in just a hair under the official 36-hour time
limit.
To watch him finish sent tears of joy into the eyes of anyone with a
heightened
awareness of what it is that Holdaway accomplished. A crowd
cheered
wildly as he hobbled into The Homestead in Midway — in pain, hot,
dehydrated,
bloodied, dirty, but smiling, with less than two minutes separating him
from the heartbreak of not finishing in time.
When he was a younger 69,
this stubborn farmer and former teacher from Vineyard finished in 35
hours,
31 minutes. This year, all he did to prepare was run a 100-miler in
Texas,
a 50-miler in Tucson, another 50-miler in Utah and a 100-kilometer
race.
"I've been paying the price, you know," he said. "You have to take care
of your body."
For him, the big payoff is
the finish. The 2003 Wasatch 100 was his fifth try. Twice he
finished
after the clock watchers had punched out, once only a few minutes after
the cutoff. On Sunday he fell into the arms of his wife, Barbara, and
to
the ground, where people aimed their cameras and adoration.
His recovery began with a few moments of just lying in the cool grass,
100 miles away from the start near Kaysville. Then a few Popsicles and
a massage. Early Monday morning, he was back at work, blisters
and
all.
By his side Sunday was
daughter
Wendy, whose third try at finishing ended at the 75-mile mark.
Son
Jeff finished his fourth Wasatch, about seven hours ahead of his dad,
in
plenty of time for a congratulatory hug. For the Holdaways, it's
about the challenge. Still, a lot of people who hear about this race
react
by saying only things like, "insane" or "crazy." They don't know half
the
story.
Consider that 218 runners
started this year, but only 134 made it — that's 84 people, many much
younger
than Holdaway, who for either medical, physical, mental or
emotional
reasons couldn't cross the finish line.
Holdaway's first pacer, Kim
Struthers, kept telling his charge to "make hay while the sun shines,"
a favorite saying of Holdaway's. When he fell a few times down the
stretch,
pacer Matt Mills would joke with him, "You saying your prayers
down
there?" In this race against the self, runners laugh, cry, sweat, throw
up, nearly fall asleep on the trail and play games in their head
to trick themselves into putting one foot in front of the other. They
plod
over roots, rocks, past mountain lions and rattlesnakes in the searing
sun, rain and lightning and in the bitter cold. Outside of being
physically fit, it takes guts just to start the Wasatch 100. Finishing
takes ironclad determination, drive, mental and emotional toughness,
pacers
and crew members who will stay with you throughout the chilly, wee
hours
of the night. Holdaway did it at 72. Some runners get
choked
up at the end. Holdaway just smiled — everyone else cried and cheered
for
this celebration of life.
**********************************************************************
Wasatch 100 keeps luring back runners
By Stephen Speckman
Deseret Morning News - Wednesday - 27 Aug 2003
You'd figure that
running
one 100 mile-race in your life would be enough — OK, for most folks,
more
than enough. Nah. Not for guys like David Blaylock and Rick
Gates. They keep running and running the Wasatch Front 100 Mile
Endurance
Run year after year. On Sept. 6, Blaylock will be going for his
10th
Wasatch 100 finish, Gates for his 19th. Two women have previously
reached
10 Wasatch finishes while this year a total of three men will be
going for their 10th. "It's my favorite weekend of the year,"
Gates
explains.
Forget the grueling mileage or a fast finishing
time.
For Gates, it's about getting the chance to spend half a weekend
running
and walking through the Wasatch Mountains. It's about meeting new
people
along the course and seeing old friends from races gone by. The
goal
for all the runners is to at least finish under the official cutoff
time
of 36 hours. Gates has reached that goal with each try, finishing in
under
26 hours 10 years ago. "I'm getting slower and slower," the
46-year-old
Cottonwood Heights resident admits.
The course record —
19 hours, 52 minutes and 25 seconds — was set by Nate McDowell last
year,
when 123 out of 208 starters finished the race, which starts at 5 a.m.
at the East Mountain Wilderness Park in Kaysville and ends in Midway at
The Homestead. But McDowell won't be on hand this year to challenge
two-time
Wasatch 100 winner Karl Meltzer, who holds the course record at
Colorado's
Hardrock Hundred Mile Endurance Run, which many consider as the
toughest
ultramarathon in the country. Meltzer won this year's
Hardrock. Instead, Meltzer will be
challenged
by the likes of two-time Wasatch winner Leland Barker, Brandon
Sybrowsky
and Tim Spence.
This year's top
female contenders include ultrarunning forces Betsy Nye and Susan
Hunter
Yates. Each has won the Wasatch 100 in years past. But
predicting
a winner for a 100-mile race is about like guessing what the weather
will
be in two weeks. Anything can happen. Even Meltzer once
declared
DNF — did not finish — in the Wasatch 100. Not finishing Utah's
toughest
footrace wasn't an option for Blaylock on his first try back in 1990.
At
the 92 mile mark, race officials told him he could quit and come join
the
post-race party.
Blaylock, now 60, took off his race number and
finished
to the singular applause of his wife, Mary Jane."It's lonely summers,"
she says of her husband's devotion to training for the Wasatch 100,
which
Blaylock has attempted to finish 13 times. Summer Saturdays means
David is gone all day, running in the mountains. "We've acclimated to
it.
"You just let them do their adventuring," she adds, "and cross your
fingers that they're going to be OK." She's
talking about her husband and son, Derek, who may just win this year's
race. Derek Blaylock, 34, has finished third in the past and this year
has taken five months off from working at his dad's construction
company
to train. But Dad is already looking past this year's race to the
goal of getting three generations of Blaylocks across the finish line.
Yep. Already Derek's 8-year-old son is looking like a future
ultra
runner. "It's neat that my family is interested in running,"
David
Blaylock laughs, "or it might not work too well."
Same thing for Gates, who
has crossed each Wasatch 100 finish line for the past 11 years with his
son at his side. His wife pitches in as a crew member and even his
parents
make the trip from their Georgia home to help. Of course, both
Gates
and the senior Blaylock are asked all the time, "Why?" For
Blaylock,
going for 10 finishes is about capturing a "trinket," the ruby ring
he'll
get from race organizers if he reaches his goal. "It's what the
trinket
means," he says. "It seems like a little punctuation to put in there
somewhere."
That, he adds, and he's no good at shorter distances. Again, kind
of like Gates, who was running those puny 26.2-mile marathons back in
the
early '80s but just couldn't break the 2:49 barrier, a goal he
set
for himself. But, why, after 19 Wasatch 100s? "You can't explain
it," Gates says. "You have to come out and really see it. It's a
whole different beast."
***********************************************************************************************************
Joe Kulak of Denver, Colorado, broke the Grand
Slam 100-mile record by more than three hours.
(Ultramarathon World)
When he finished the Wasatch
Front 100-Miler, September 7th, Kulak had a combined time of 75 hours
and
seven minutes in the four spectacular 100-miler Grand Slam events
( Western States, Vermont, Leadville, and Wasatch). Kulak
finished
second to race winner Karl Meltzer. His Grand Slam time broke the
previous record of 78:22:47 set by Ian Torrence in 2002. "I am
very
happy with setting a new record but the finest memories I have were at
the award ceremony looking at the assembled human wall of pain,
suffering,
determination, and joy," Kulak said. " I was proud to be one of the 16
individuals who finished the 2003 Grand Slam."
The
Grand
Slam got its start in 1986. When the Grand Slam
began,
the four races in the series were the oldest 100 milers in the country
and were among only six 100's available. Ultrarunners now have over
30
trail races in the 100 mile distance to run. By also finishing
the
Old Dominion 100 in Virginia where he came in first and tackling
the
Angeles Crest 100 in southern California in October, Kulak hopes to win
the six-race Last Great Race series. "With five 100 miler's
behind
me and The Grand Slam series completed, I'm looking forward to running
Angeles Crest in three weeks. It has been a long, adventuresome summer
full of fond memories. It will be a restful fall and winter."
Kulak's Grand Slam Race
Times
Western State 100 Mile
Endurance
Run,
CA
June
28
6th
18:14:59
Vermont 100,
VT
July
19
1st
14:55:26
Leadville Trail 100,
CO
August
16
5th
20:03:25
Wasatch Front 100,
UT
September
6
2nd
21:53:10
Total Cumulative
Time
75:07:00
*********************************************************************************************************
Story by Peter
Gambaccini
-> Runners World On Line
Joe Kulak, 35, of Lakewood,
Colorado set new cumulative time records in 2003 for the Grand Slam of
100-mile trail races--Western State in California, the Vermont 100,
Leadville
Trail in Colorado, and Wasatch Front in Utah--and for the "Last Great
Race,"
comprised of those four plus the Old Dominion 100-Mile in Virginia on
June
7 and the Angeles Crest 100 in southern California on September 27.
Kulak's
overall Grand Slam time of 75 hours and seven minutes broke Ian
Torrence's
2002 mark of 78:22:47. His Last Great Race clocking of 114 hours, 23
minutes,
and 49 seconds took more than 14 hours off Marshall Ulrich's 1989
record
of 129:00:05. Kulak took first places at Old Dominion and at Vermont.
The
Last Great Race included 110,252 feet of climb and 118,591 of descent,
and temperatures in the series ranged from 30 to 104 degrees. Kulak, an
environmental insurance broker, calculates that he consumed 75,000
calories
during the six 100-milers. He and his wife are expecting their first
child
in April.
Runner's World Daily: Have
you
been on this 100-mile circuit for a few years?
Joe Kulak: Yeah. Since 1994,
I've done sixteen 100-milers, as well as sixteen 26.2-mile marathons.
All
told, I've done 51 marathons and ultra marathons. My best marathon was
2:52 in Paris in 2000.
RWD: You bettered the Grand
Slam
record by three hours. At what point did you think you'd possibly get
it?
Was it even before the last race?
JK: Having run three of the
four races last year, I knew them really well. The big unknown was
Wasatch.
I'd never been on it, I didn't know any of the trails. It was also
considered
the hardest race of the four, with almost 27,000 feet of climb and
27,000
down--54,000 feet of change, predominately single-track trail. I had a
pretty good idea I had a shot at the record after the second race, the
Vermont 100, which I actually won. Because I had such a good time, 14
hours
and 55 minutes there, at that point I was over two hours ahead of the
Grand
Slam record set by Ian Torrence last year. The third race, the
Leadville
Trail 100, is basically my home turf. I'd done it six times before this
year, so I had a good comfort feeling going into it. I was a little bit
tired and did have problems up there, but I was reasonably confident I
could go into that and have a good race. But Wasatch was the unknown.
Going
in, I was three hours ahead of the record, but Wasatch was notorious as
the hardest of the four races.
RWD: Because of your
three-hour
margin, did you run Wasatch conservatively to preserve the record?
JK: I wouldn't say I held
back.
I did hold back probably for the first 30 miles, knowing that I needed
to conserve energy because I already had four 100-milers under my belt
(including the earlier Old Dominion) and was already feeling a little
tired.
The second place at Wasatch was a bit of a surprise. I wasn't as
concerned
about placement there. I knew I had to break about 25 and a half
hours for the record. I actually felt pretty good all day.
RWD: You did six 100-milers
within
15 weeks. What's the toughest part about recovering in-between them,
and
were you really able to show up to each one fully recovered?
JK: No, there's a cumulative
effect. And recovery really becomes a key component of the program. All
the training for this is really done in February, March, April, and
May.
Once you're into the first one, it becomes a matter of just getting
from
one to the next injury free and not so banged up. So I had quite a bit
of down time. In the 21 to 28 days between races typically I would
spend
half of that time not doing anything, completely resting. I did have a
bad IT band problem going into Vermont, and some Achilles problems
going
into Old Dominion and after it.
RWD: Does the hard training
differ
that much from what a marathoner would do?
JK: Our long runs usually
start
at 20 miles and, at least once every other week, can extend as far out
as 40 to 45 miles. Eighty to ninety percent of my training is off road,
and 75 percent of that is up and down. I've got a couple of local six
to
eight-mile runs that consist of 2000 or 3000 feet of climbing. That's
not
hard to come by in Colorado.
RWD: What's it like to come
East,
where the mountains are nowhere near as high as in Colorado?
JK: Old Dominion had 12,000
feet of climbing and Vermont had 14,000. But the climb tends to be much
shorter. You won't tend to find a single climb of more than 1000 feet
and
you don't have the elevation to contend with. Coming from here to
there,
we have more red blood cells and we're used to the altitude. When I go
there, I really don't feel the climbs. I don't get winded. At Old
Dominion
and Vermont, I could talk the whole way at a very comfortable pace. At
Vermont, you can really cruise. That's a fast race.
RWD: Did you have a fairly
traditional
running background at the beginning?
JK: I was a high school
runner,
cross country and track. I didn't run in college. When I got out of
college,
I started to run 5ks and 10ks. I was originally from Philadelphia. I
moved
to Colorado, which is just a hotbed of adventure racing and marathoning
and outdoor sports in general. I quickly hooked up with a running group
and got roped into doing these ultramarathons. It's not hard to come
across
people out here who do this kind of stuff.
RWD: Are you enjoying some
down
time now?
JK: I'm taking some time off.
I'm a little burned out. I've slept ten or 11 hours a night for the
last
two weeks. I want to take a little rest, and I want to get ready for
our
arrival (the baby) in April. I'll do a bunch of skiing, work on the
house,
and probably do some snowshoeing this winter. I'll probably still run
30
or 40 miles a week during the early winter, and then in February in
March,
probably 50 to 70 a week, and then March through May, from 65 up to as
much as 110.
***********************************************************************************************
Grand Slam Adventure
2003
by Terry Park
Rain, close lightning strikes, snow, fog,
sleet, temperatures ranging from a low of 38? to a high of 114?- those of us who endeavored
to run four 100-milers this year between June and August encountered them all. Yet
compared to earlier years, this was an easy year to compete in the Grand Slam. Most of the
weather was perfect running weather - overcast,
in the 70's - 80's during the day, and
dropping down to the high 30's at night. No major fires, no major rainstorms, no deep mud -
just normal mountain weather any hiker would have to prepare for.
The Grand Slam is ideal for a middle
of the pack, 47 year-old runner who likes trail running and wants a new adventure (and has
a loving wife who said 'Sure, take the summer off from work. 8 weeks of not working won't
matter 10 years from now. Completing the Grand Slam will.") After running Western
States, the Vermont 100, the Leadville 100, and
the Wasatch Front 100 in one summer,
I'd have to say that the Grand Slam is also not for the faint-at-heart, for the folks who will
quit because it is too cold or too hot, whose bodies can't recover in 3 weeks from one
100-miler to be ready for the next - or those who aren't willing to just slug it out to
the end. Yet, I know many a hardy sole for whom I have the deepest admiration who have
had to drop out of one of the four. I guess I both got lucky - and had pacers and crew
who wouldn't let me quit. There were 30+ of us who signed up to give up our summers to try
to cross the finish lines in under 30 hours (or 36 hours in the case of Wasatch). I'm
fortunate to be one of the 16 who accomplished it.
I'm a western trail runner, having
trained in the Marin, California headlands and in the Sierras. I like the ups and downs for the
balanced use of muscles, the single-track trails running in and out of forests, and
the low humidity. My background on this 'home turf' may color the following view of the
four races. I found the first two races just very long. It wasn't until Leadville and
Wasatch that I really got tested. Here's my experience this year:
Western States 100 (Climb: 18,790';
Descent: 22,970'; Elevation at start: 6,250'):Doing this for the second year, the run, in
comparison to the other three Grand Slam events, was a sleigh ride through beautiful
country - after the first few hills. The temperature in the Canyons (from Devil's
Thumb at mile 47.8 to Michigan Bluff at mile 55.7) was a brutal 114?, but the Canyon
stretch lasted only an hour, and a cold plunge into El Dorado Creek revived me. The impact
of altitude was minimized because the race started with a quick jaunt up to 8,270'
feet and then came down to reasonable breathing
level quickly. Finishing the race in a
stadium with friends all around makes it all worth it. After doing the other 3 races, I
realized that this race was extremely well organized. Aid stations with trained
volunteers and medical staff offer appropriate food and support, and the course markings were
well laid out. A pacer was allowed beginning at Foresthill (mile 62), so I had Florencia
Gascon-Amyx keeping me on course and running faster through the night. Yes, it was hot.
Yes, I had cramps which were fixed only because Gordy Ainsleigh, the true founder
of 100-milers, came back to give me salt to eat. Yet doing this a second time allowed
me to cut 90 minutes off last year's finish, coming in at 27:15.
Vermont 100 (Climb: 14,160'; Descent:
14,160'; Elevation at start: 1,340'): This picture postcard race has at least two
great features: the pre-race dinner and the post-race feed. Help yourself to
all-you-can-eat bricks of Ben and Jerry's ice cream,
whole BBQ chickens and lots of
hamburgers, good camaraderie, etc. Furthermore, at the start of the race, fireworks exploded while
a concert pianist played "Chariots of Fire," and the musical support continued with a
local classical guitarist providing music from his front porch. Gordy Ainsleigh and
another good Western States buddy, John Dewey, made the trip to Vermont at the last minute,
thus providing me with running partners and great advice for the first and last 30 miles.
With my western bias, the easy (and
therefore somewhat monotonous) course deceived me. The course altitude and profile made me
think that I might be able to finish in under 24 hours. However, I typically cannot sleep
before a race. At mile 93, I had to stop and take a nap. Happily, the course was gentle
and kind enough that as I literally fell asleep on my feet running, I somehow didn't
fall into trouble or wind up in Canada. I managed this race without a crew or pacer,
using only one drop bag. One main complaint: although this one has almost double the aid
stations as the other 3 courses, at the unmanned Aid stations, supplies were left
to the taking, and by the time I arrived at these, it looked like a tornado had hit
them. Litter was everywhere, the water dispensers were dry, and the bowls were
empty of food. For someone slightly faster than me, the 24 hour buckle is doable. I
finished in 25:25, having learned that running 100 miles was still running a 100 miles.
The finish line was disappointing after my tumultuous Western States experience. There
were 3 people there: the official timekeeper and two young teenagers who half-heartedly
clapped as I arrived. Next time, I'm bringing my own cheering section.
Leadville Trail 100 (Climb: 15,600';
Descent: 15,600'; Elevation at start: 10,152'): Leadville began the true adventure for me -
and tested my willingness to keep going. The race starts at 10,152' above sea level,
where walking at a fast pace can leave you out of breath. I came three weeks early to become
acclimated to the altitude, staying at the Leadville Hostel, which I highly recommend.
Both Wild Bill, a truly caring host, and all the guests (either fellow runners, or
cyclists) were great sources of information, fun, and support. We racers poured over Dana
Rouche's course strategy, previewed most of the course, or went up to the top of Mt. Evans,
14,264', for hours at a time. It took a while, but getting acclimated was a wise
choice.
I actually got a good night's sleep
before the race, so I was almost chipper for the 4 a.m. start. Going around Turquoise Lake in
the pre-dawn hours was easy; it's totally flat, but the dust kicked up by runners
would turn into a breathing problem later on. Because it was so flat, I decided to make a
run for it. I did the first 50 miles, including the 3400-foot climb to Hope Pass,
in 12:25, almost keeping pace with swift Matt Mahoney. This may have been a good
decision, or it could have contributed to my respiratory challenges later on.
Because of the toll that altitude can
take, Leadville allows a pacer at mile 50. I met my first pacer, Ana Braga-Levaggi from Mill
Valley, California, at the Winfield turnaround. Leadville has some of the best
(loosest) rules for pacers that I've ever encountered. The pacer can be your 'mule,'
carrying your water, clothes, music, and lights - anything except you. Merilee
O'Neal, the race director explained it this way: "We want you to finish. We'll do anything
within reason and safety to allow you to finish, as long as you actually run the
whole race in the hours allowed." Still, Leadville usually has a 40%-50% finishing
rate.
Ana's run was less fun than what
Leadville had offered to me up to this point. Going back up Hope Pass, we passed the 36 llamas
used to bring up food and water to the 'Hopeless' aid station. That was her only
fun. Dense fog and the tail end of a rainstorm got us soaked. Reaching the flats
going into Twin Lakes, my fast pace, the dust, the altitude - who knows what -
caused me to have great difficulty breathing (as in, I felt like I was drowning and wasn't
sure if my next breath would actually help me.) Twin Lakes aid station was well prepared; a
huge canister of oxygen was offered to me and
I sat there for 20 minutes sucking air
- literally, as my patient crew (I was sort of nasty at this point) stripped me and
redressed me, brought me lights, forced me to drink my 2 cans of Ensure and got me up on my
feet and going.
Ana and I left right after dark. The
rest of the race was a forced walk. Going up the long, steep hill in the cold dark, we got
lost for 15 minutes, following another runner rather than the glow sticks. Ana let me
watch stars as she ran back down to find the right path. This was the beginning of my 3
hours of despair. My lung volume went down to 30%; I lost energy and hope as my asthma
medicine stopped doing what it was supposed to do. Not being able to breath was an
unpleasant surprise. In my mind, I would get to Half Moon aid station, a mere 9 miles away,
where I would DNF (Did Not Finish). This, ladies and gentlemen, is where pacers
and crew come in. As we VERY SLOWLY made our way to Half Moon, my mother was rushing
back into Leadville to get stronger medicine. Then Jane, my wife, found a way to legally
take it up to the aid station (no crew allowed). As Ana and I arrived at Half Moon
20 minutes prior to the cut-off, Robin, the medical aid worker, who had been briefed by
Jane, met me. Looking like Santa Claus, he came up to me and said 'I have a little
present for you' and handed me the new medicine. Sobbing, I told him I was going to DNF. I
was at the lowest of the low. Ana told me that to DNF was ok, but she "suggested"
that I could DNF at the next aid station - down
the hill. She forcefully told Robin
not to cut my wrist-band, thus ending my race. Other runners were still going by, so we stood up
and went on.
2.7 miles later, in the dark of the
night, I lay in my Mom's car, moaning about going through Hell. Ana had run ahead, yelling
for Jane, and telling her: "Don't let him drop out. He has the strength to finish - he is
just scared." All three, my Mom, Jane and Ana, kept saying I only had a mere 50K and
that the next 4-5 miles were totally flat. Plus, I would be picking up my next pacer
who had been waiting for me since 11:30. I went on.
Jamie Boese, my patient pacer, whom I
had met only two week before (he's a burro racer from Denver) picked me up a mere 5 minutes
before the 3 a.m. Fish Hatchery cutoff. The last hill seemed to be enormous as we went
through a snowstorm; I was still wheezing and trying to catch a deep breath. Yet, the
camaraderie of ultra-racers, who all want the
others to finish, continued as a
Canadian woman shared her even stronger asthma medicine with me, allowing me to actually feel like
I could breath freely for the first time in hours. Jamie kept me talking (if I could
talk, I was breathing ok). He told me when not to talk (going up the hills) and kept me
focused on sharing ultra-running tips versus the effort. We arrived at May Queen, 13.5 miles
from the finish at, 6 a.m. I finally had hope that I could finish. In pre-race
practice, I had power-walked to Leadville in a little over 3 hours. Leaving May Queen, I
had 3 hours and 40 minutes - plenty of time.
Absolute jubilation was mine (and
Jane's, my Mom's, and my pacers') when I arrived at the finish with a 20-minute margin, at 29:39. I
kissed the ground - this was a total surprise to me that I finished this race. I
had gone into it with neither fear nor anticipation that I might DNF, yet I had
had to scrape by with what I felt was my life in order to make it.
Wasatch Front 100 (Climb: 26,882';
Descent: 26,131'; Elevation at start: 4,880'): Not wanting to lose my acclimation, I went
directly from Leadville to spend the next 3 weeks in the Wasatch Mountains. Jane took
her vacation - only to spend a week driving up and down canyon roads to check the aid
stations. I was looking forward to the race because I had heard how beautiful it was. I
did NOT run nor check out any of the race, except the last three miles. I just wanted
to just rest my body, hoping it would make a full recovery. This really paid off, going
into the race better rested than I had gone into any of the other Grand Slam courses.
I looked forward to the race until I
read John Medinger's race report. He said, "It was fun. It was beautiful. It was challenging,
no, strike that, it was hard. Then it got ugly. Then it got very ugly. Then it got
stupefying, Bataan death march, lurching, staggering,
crying-for-yo'-mama-in-the-middle-of-the-night ugly." He quoted his
pacers' mentions of 'unfair
course'. He was right.
You have 36 hours to finish the
Wasatch with a pacer starting at mile 32. There is a reason for this. Wasatch requires slugging
it out on LONG, steep up-hills and steep, rocky,
there-are-few-places-for-your-feet-amongst-the-boulders descents. As
someone said, 'There is a
reason why they call these the Rocky Mountains'. The logo says 'Heaven
and Hell'; there is mostly Hell,
unless you can lift your eyes from the trail to look around, and then it is stupefying gorgeous.
The first 31 miles was the hardest
ultra I had ever done. When I picked up my pacer Florencia Gascon-Amyx at mile 53, it was
the hardest 50+ miler I had ever done, taking me 16+ hours (compared to my normal 50 miles
in 9 1/2 hours). At 7:10 a.m. at Brighton (mile 75.4), after being on the trail since
5 a.m. Saturday, I was wiped out. Florencia and I had just gone through a lightning
storm. At Scott's Peak, we left in the rain and had an "interesting" discussion about
feeling the electricity in the air. We were counting the lightening strikes' distances
from 10,000 feet, to 3,000 feet, to 300 feet away. I told Florencia that when you feel
the hair raising up on the back of your neck, to duck down but not put your hands on the
ground. We were in the open, on top of the peak (at 9,996 ft.). The aid station was
holding the runners from going on due to the storm - right after we had left. We
couldn't go forward to get cover and we couldn't go back. As the lightning struck before we
finished counting 'one' and then the next flash and boom were simultaneous, we just kept
going. There was good news: it was hailing, snowing, and then sleeting at this time -
keeping us from getting as wet as from rain.
I had been looking forward to a nap
indoors the Brighton Lodge aid station, but Jane told me to 'get my ass in gear' if I was going
to finish in the 36 hours. Dry socks, shoes, clothes and then food and glorious caffeine
(Starbucks, even!) - then out the door.This was where John Medinger's report
really rang true. The course after Brighton was a double-edged sword. Leaving Brighton, it
was very beautiful going over the highest pass of the race (10,450') - and then the ups
and downs got increasingly harder until the finish. The final fifteen miles were
excruciatingly technical. As Florencia said,
"There is no easy downhill. Normally
you look forward to the downhill to recover. Here, you have to pick your way down the hill,
paying attention at every moment. Then you face the next steep uphill." There were a whole
bunch of 1000-foot very steep up-hills and 1000 foot very steep 'blow your quads'
non-runnable descents.
Jane had put the fear of God in me -
would I sacrifice my Leadville finish to come in just after 36 hours, causing me to
officially DNF? I left Brighton with a hurried pace. This allowed me to catch up with a new good
friend, Mike Bur, who was doing the Last Great Race. He kept us entertained, making
fun of my knee-high gaiters and wondering why I was still wearing my gloves in the
morning heat. He was absolutely fabulous, doing this race without a crew and without a
pacer. His brain wasn't fried, and he could give us the race statistics. When we caught up
with him, he let us know we had no cushion. Yet, a while later, he exclaimed that we
had an hour cushion; at our pace, we could come in at 35 hours. All of a sudden, we had an
hour and 30 minutes. So, I slowed down. Mike made it in 18 minutes before me.
I crossed the finish line in 34 hours
and 45 minutes, with Florencia at my side and Jane waiting to take pictures. The Grand
Slammers, all 16 of us who finished, were given the Eagle Trophy, a special shirt, and most
welcomed food and drink. Florencia had a well-earned massage. She had been with me for
18.5 hours to do 46 miles - a new 'duration'
record for her.
It was over; I had finished my
adventure. I had made some new friends and had deepened old friendships from Western States. I had
been supported by some of the greatest people on this earth - my Mom (June Taft) and my
wife Jane. But the ones who really made it happen were my pacers, who put up with my
bitching, moaning, and hemming and hawing, and who really were the ones who got me to the
finish line. I will be forever grateful to Florencia, to Ana, and to Jamie, whose
unselfishness and spirit kept me going despite myself. My hat is off to others who have
gone before me and who will follow. I used to say "Whatever doesn't kill you makes you
stronger." A friend told me that's true, unless it makes you weaker, or if it has no effect
whatsoever. Completing the Grand Slam is anything but the latter.
Grand Slam Adventure 2003
Article for the Tamalpa Gazette
Submitted by Terry Parks