Squaw Peak 50-mile Trail Run

I ran in the Squaw Peak 50-mile trail run, held in the mountains east of Provo, Utah.   If successful, this would be my fifth straight finish at Squaw Peak.  To me, it is one of the greatest 50-mile races in the country.  The views are spectacular and the trails are very challenging. In particular I enjoy it because of all the local participants.

But this year, I was very nervous about running.   I had been battling a foot/ankle injury for the past couple months.  This would be my first ultra since the injury put me on the disabled list.  I went into the race without any serious trail training for the past two months and I knew my hill strength would be a problem.   I had been doing plenty of pool work and some road training, but with this difficult course, I knew it wouldn’t be enough.   I also knew that this type of injury sometimes needed several months to fully heal.  I was taking a big risk running.  It could set me back for the entire summer.

I enjoyed the great pre-race dinner the night before and participating in the usual pre-race laughs with ultra friends both new and old.  The biggest laugh at our table came while 59-year old, Ed Green from Colorado was wondering if we would put up a monument for him if he died during an ultra race.  I suggested that the monument would have to be put out in the brush and would read, “He squatted, but never got up.”

Squaw Peak 50 puts on the longest race briefing in the sport and this year featured a long multi-level marketing pitch by the RD and sponsor.  It was the wrong venue for this type of thing in my opinion.  But after that, just a good-night’s sleep was needed to get ready for the race.

I arrived at the start in plenty of time so I wouldn’t be rushed.   I was disappointed to discover that my MP3 had been wiped of all its music for some reason.  There would be no tunes today on the trails.  I was also disappointed to feel pain in my foot as I walked around.  We started promptly a 5:00 a.m. and began our race by running two miles down the Provo River Parkway past Bridal Veil Falls, roaring above us in the dark.

I knew there would be some very fast runners in the field this year, but I was flabbergasted how fast the field went out.  I like to run those first two miles very fast in order to reach the single track trail before runners who could slow things up.  But this year it seemed like there were at least 20 runners ahead of me.  I did hold back somewhat because one of my calf muscles started to tighten up from the very fast pace.  I quickly decided that I would not push the first ten miles as hard as I usually did.

Once on the single-track trail, we started a huge climb that would take us up several thousand feet over the next six miles.  Buddies who usually passed me around mile seven were already passing me and commented on the blistering pace.   It would be a good day for speed.  The temperature was cool and ideal for running and the trails were in great condition with very little snow to slow us down.  

Last year I arrived at the Hope Campground aid station (mile 8.5) in about 10^th place, but this year it seemed like I was in about 40^th place and only two minutes slower.  I had let several long trains of runners pass me on the climb.  I just didn’t have the right conditioning to push the climb very hard.  Also, I dislike leading a train of runners.  Instead I like to be the caboose so I can alter my pace as desired.  The foot was in some pain with each step, but it wasn’t terrible.  I had to be very careful to avoid any type of ankle twist.  If the foot started to twist, I could tell it would cause bad pain and problems.

The dawn arrived and near the top of Squaw Peak I was able to look down at the massive valley floor far below and see my home town far across Utah Lake.   Co-worker Bill Francis caught up with me and for the next two hours would kindly run with me.  My speed was a little better than his on the single-track, but his speed was much better on the dirt roads because of all his experience running roads.   He would kindly wait for me in order to have some company.   However, as we were talking during a climb, we missed a turn onto a single-track short-cut.  We ended up following the road up through several switch backs.  I soon noticed the mistake because the scenery was not familiar and I did not see any foot tracks.  But we didn’t turn back because I knew we would finally join up with the course.  We probably did an extra quarter mile or so, but it didn’t appear like we lost any time because the people we passed were not re-passes.  Many runners started the race an hour early and within 3.5 hours we passed most, if not all of them.

View of the windmills

We reached to top, Kolob Overlook (mile 14.6) at 3:10.  I was only four minutes behind my pace from last year.   As Bill and I ran down the long seven-mile road, I discovered that I just could not push the ankle hard.  I needed to be patient and careful.   I estimate that it slowed me on the downhills by about 15 minutes during the first half of the race.   The views coming down are spectacular.  I could even see clearly the giant wind-mills guarding the entrance to Spanish Fork canyon.  They looked very close.

Once we reached the paved Hobble Creek Canyon road, Bill pushed on strongly ahead and I believed disappeared ahead for the last time.   I ran with a consistent pace up the road, vowing to walk very little of it.  I kept leap-frogging a pair of runners who would run the flatter sections very fast and then would slow to a walk.   With about a half-mile to go on this road section, my pacer, Mark Ellison came running down the road to greet me.   It would be great to have him run with me to the finish.

I reached to aid station at the top of the road (mile 26.1) at 5:09, about ten minutes slower than normal.  My stop was very fast and we were on our way climbing up Dry Canyon.  I tried very hard to push this next section and at one point ran very fast and hard, even working Mark hard.  But despite the effort, my split time was about normal, an hour.  We reached Sheep Canyon (mile 30) at 6:11.  Karl Melzer and Scott Mason were working the aid station.  My stop again was very fast.  I wasn’t going to waste any time at the stations.  I never would sit down the entire race.

We next needed to run through the creek bed and make several creek crossings.  This was very difficult for me because of the wet rocks.  My ankle would start to roll many times and I could feel the pain, so I eventually had to slow way down and just carefully pick my way through the stream.  I really enjoy the next section that winds its way up along the canyon floor, crossing open fields and makes its way up to aspen groves.   But I can never do this section very fast as fatigue starts setting it.  It was no different this year and several runners caught up.  However, they were the same cast of characters I had seen for the last couple hours.  I would pass them in the aid stations and they would eventually catch up.  The trail next descends through the trees into Little Valley.  My foot/ankle was really starting to bother me more, so I again had to slow down on the downhill runs.

We arrived at Little Valley (mile 33) at 7:15, about 15 minutes slower than normal.  Shortly after we arrived a stream of runners also came in who I had not seen all day.  That motivated me to make a very quick stop.  At this station runners will typically make a long stop.  I was there for only two minutes.   I was careful to make sure I drank plenty because the next section is really a three-bottle section and I planned to stick with only my two hand-held bottles.

Mark and I ran at a good pace up the road and started the long climb up to Bald Knoll.  A few familiar runners caught up but once we hit the rolling trail around Bald Knoll, I could kick it into gear better and we repassed several.   Finally we reached the base of the massive steep climb that seems to go straight up.   Usually each year we can climb straight up a snow ridge, but this year there was very little snow so we would follow a rough trail through the brush. 

View of the back of Mount Timpanogos

Once we started the climb, there was a slow runner ahead of me going at a slow, but steady pace.  I quickly passed him but then discovered that the altitude immediately slammed me.  I had not done any training above 6,000 feet for months.  Now at 9,000 feet, I just could keep pushing it hard.  I stopped and let him go ahead again.  Once I recovered, I again wanted to go faster but just didn’t want to play the leap-frog game over and over again, so I was content to climb at a slow rate.

Runners making their way up the steep climb

Once on top of the ridge, fellow mountain team member, Eve Daivies caught up and passed me with her dog.  I was surprised to also see Bill Francis catch up.  He had got off course after Little Valley, taking the road up the mountain instead of the Great Western Trail.  Eventually, he turned around and got back on course, but that had cost him at least a half hour or more.

I arrived at Windy Pass (mile 41.5) at 10:01.   I realized there would be no PR today, but I still had a good chance to break 12 hours.  Charlie Vincent and Jim Skaggs were there and they kindly attended quickly to me needs.   I grabbed a couple tasty cookies, filled my bottles up, took some pain killers from Charlie and was on my way to try to catch up with Eve.   But I never did.  The decent was slow as we hit some snow.  I just couldn’t risk sliding and twisting the ankle.  Also, I was developing a couple painful blisters on the other foot, probably because I was over compensating. 

We made patient steady progress down the long trail.  In past years I could really blast down sections and would even do some nasty face plants on the rough trail, but this year it was much slower.  The thing that was slowing me the most was a painful lower back due to poor conditioning. We were passed by several runners along the way.   I noticed that my ankle was feeling pretty good, almost pain-free.  If I could just finish the last single-track section without a twist, I would be in good shape.  As I was descending, I started to think about my next race in two weeks, Big Horn 100.  How in the world could I do that race if I was feeling so poorly after only 50 miles?   I tried to remind myself that these thoughts are typical as I’m finishing a hard race.

Runner crossing field with Windy Pass in background (2008 race)

Finally as we neared the bottom of the South Fork, we ran across a wide, flat field.  A runner passed me and I thought to myself, “Uh…we aren’t on rough trails anymore, why are you being lazy?”   I really kicked it into gear and we started to fly across the field.  We passed that runner like he was standing still and sprinted past some spectators waiting for their runners to arrive.   We came to the last aid station at 11:31.  I knew it would take some very serious speed to arrive at the finish before 12 hours.  I had over 5K left.  I told Mark that I had once run this downhill road section in about 18 minutes during a road 10-mile race.  

We pushed the pace hard and soon could see a yellow-shirted runner ahead.   I purposely kicked the pace up another notch in order to really fly by him.  Our 48^th mile was run at about a 7-minute-mile pace.   I noticed that the runner who I had passed in the field had been trying to match our pace, but after that, we left him far behind for good.   Eventually I needed to slow down some.  I could feel a painful blister developing because of the hard road running.   With less than a half mile remaining, I saw my watch click past 12 hours.   Oh well, I would still finish strong.  I made the turn into Vivian Park to the kind cheers of the families and crossed the finish line in 12:05.   Despite all my challenges today, I had finished only 25 minutes behind my PR.  I was pleased that I had been able to finish strong, and had finished without any serious further damage to the ankle.

My pacer, Mark had enjoyed the run.  I needed to drive him back to Hobble Creek Canyon to retrieve his truck so I wouldn’t  be watching many of my friends finish this year.  My feet were in pain anyway, and I was anxious to get home.

So what was the damage to my injured foot?   No real damage!  After 24-hours it was again pain-free.  I suspect the run had actually helped the ankle and foot strengthen.