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
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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."
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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.
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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.
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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."
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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
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 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.
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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