The Bear: My First 100-Mile Ultra!
Race Report: The Bear 100, My First 100-Mile Ultra!
Prologue:
Let me catch you up on my 2017. My BHAG was to complete the Leadman. I completed the first four events, but came up 50 miles short at the grand finale, the storied Leadville 100 Run. While running across a grassy field around mile 25, I stepped in some sort of hole and bent my knee backwards. By the time I got to the top of Hope Pass at mile 45, I was using my hiking pole as a cane and hobbled down the mountain to the midway point at Winfield knowing it was a one-way trip. I just couldn’t let my season end at mile 50 of Leadville…
So I threw my name on the waitlist for the Bear 100, a point-to-point race from Logan, UT to Bear Lake on the Idaho side. The waitlist was 50+ deep so I figured I had no shot…but then two weeks before the race I got an email that a slot was available!
Could I be ready for a 100-mile race in two weeks? I’d taken about two weeks off running to let my knee heal after Leadville and had done some long runs to test it, including pacing a buddy on the Wasatch 100. I thought it was about 95% recovered, as it would occasionally stiffen towards the end of a long run. I figured what the hell? And accepted the invite.
The timing of the race was perfect as it was exactly six weeks after Leadville, basically making Leadville my training 50-miler. I got the email Thursday night, so Friday, Saturday, and Sunday I did long runs totally over 50 miles and 12,000ft of vertical to cram in one last bit of fitness and test my knee. The knee was a champ.
Rounding up a crew and pacers on two weeks’ notice was challenging. I figured I’d be going solo, but my buddy Chris agreed to crew me at two aid stations and run the section from the last aid station to the finish. I rented a cabin at Bear Lake for my family and Chris and his family so my ladies could meet me at the finish line.
The Race:
The Bear 100 is considered one of the hardest 100 milers with over 22,000ft of vertical and technical trails. Realendurance.com has a cool ranking mechanism by doing a regression analysis of runners’ times across races and comparing them to Western States, which is used as the benchmark of 100%. The Bear 100 is ranked at 114%. By comparison, Leadville is 104%. Ironman races come in at about 50% if you were wondering how hard a 100 is by comparison. It is also considered one of the most scenic courses with its electric Fall colors. Countless ultrarunners told me it was their favorite 100-miler. Its tagline is “36 hours of Indian summer.”
The basic profile of the course is go up, up, up and then go down, down, down. The elevation chart is below.
Bear 100 elevation chart with estimated
gain for each climb.
I felt like I was too rigid in my plan for Leadville, trying to plan every detail. For the Bear 100, I would make sure I had supplies at key points through drop bags and Chris crewing me. Otherwise, my goal was to have fun. I’d have 36 hours to finish, which would allow me to make up for lots of mistakes.
Getting ready for the race was a blur and next thing I knew it was 5:50AM on Friday and I was lining up at the start. The field was about 350 runners to start. Without much ceremony, the race director did a count down and we were running through a neighborhood in Logan, UT. Within a mile, we were on singletrack and started the longest climb of the day. I resolved to go easy and let myself hit the single track somewhere in the middle of the pack. There was basically no opportunity to pass, and it would force me to go easy. I had my shiny knew carbon hiking poles (which literally feel like they weigh nothing) strapped to the back of my Salomon running vest. I grabbed them about a mile into the climb after the conga line started to spread out. I wanted to save my legs for the end. The climb up Logan Peak was the easiest climb I’ve done all year. I chatted with other racers and stayed loose.
Sunrise near Logan Peak.
I made it to the first aid station Logan Peak at mile 10 in 3 hours right on the money. I broke out packets of Tailwind and refilled my two 500mL soft flasks. I grazed from the food table, and then headed out.
Selfie climbing Logan Peak.
After a bit more climbing, where there was some mud from recent snow fall but noting too bad, there was a long and runnable descent to Leatham Hollow. It was probably the longest descent I’ve ever done where I could pretty much run the entire thing. I actually got sick of running downhill by the time I hit Leatham Hollow aid station at around mile 20. I grabbed my drop bag and switch out my soft flasks for ones prefilled with Tailwind powder (no water so they wouldn’t burst in transport) and restored some Gu stroopwafles and more packets of Tailwind. A volunteer helped me fill my flasks with water. Then I was off. “106 checking out,” I told the timing official.
The pattern I observed when researching the course was after each aid station there was a climb followed by a descent into an aid station. That pattern would pretty much hold out through the entire course.
The next aid station at Richards Hollow was the one exception. It was only 3 miles up a dirt road. I stopped briefly to eat some delicious peaches, but was fully stocked from the last aid station. As I checked out, a volunteer told me it was about a 4 mile climb that was exposed. By this time, it was warming up. I’d taken off my arm warmers and was feeling comfortable.
I deployed my hiking poles again and marched up the mountain. I fell in with a runner from Durango, CO named Elizabeth. She had done Leadville, so I told her my tale of the Leadman. We chatted about Colorado and Utah, and the climb blurred by. The memorable part was the free-range cows along the trail. I’d hear something large in the brush and get nervous, but it would turn out to be a cow. At the top of the climb where the trail connected to a dirt road, I stowed my poles to get ready for the descent. It was super runnable and just a hoot blasting down to the aid station. I turned up the music on my Aftershokz headphones and played air drums and air guitar on the run down to Cowley Canyon aid station at mile 30.
At Cowley, I refilled my flasks with Tailwind and grabbed some pumpkin bread. I had been disciplined about my nutrition, as I would be until night fell, and was feeling good.
Action shot coming into Cowley.
The pattern held and there was a good climb out of Cowley. It was sometime in the early afternoon. It wasn’t too hot but I was starting to feel the sun. I dialed it back and took the long descent into Right Hand Fork aid station at mile 37 easy. Just before the aid station, I saw a runner dunking himself in the stream. I told him that was an awesome idea. I would have done the same thing if I had a towel (to avoid chaffing later).
At Right Hand Fork, I grabbed my drop bag, switched out my soft flasks again, and restocked supplies. I also grabbed a small USB charger so I could charge my Garmin Fenix 3, head phones, and phone along the rest of the way. Shout out to Peter Noyes for the recommendation!
The climb out of Right Hand was more gradual than any other so far. I fell in with a runner from Utah named Korby. It was also his first 100-miler. He was expecting his second kid in three weeks, so I shared my experience with our second daughter. The runner who was dunking himself in the stream earlier joined us for part of the way. When we hit the top, it was a dirt road and we blasted down. Korby took off and I didn’t see him again. We later connected on Facebook and he made it to the finish in an impressive time.
Being in the sun all day was starting to catch up with me. My stomach was feeling a bit rotten. Sports nutrition sounded disgusting, so I ate a Snickers. It was magical.
I finally hit Temple Fork aid station after a gradual descent that felt like I was running forever. Things had spread out and I hadn’t seen a course marker in a while. However, I loaded the GPS file to my Fenix 3, and it showed an arrow pointing me along the way. I just followed the arrow. That arrow would save my ass several times during the race.
I rolled into Temple Fork at mile 45 in the late afternoon and reloaded my soft flasks with Tailwind. I asked for Coke to settle my stomach but they only had Pepsi. Note: Pepsi doesn’t have the magic that Coke does.
I headed out towards what was supposed to be the toughest climb of the race: about 5 miles with 2,700ft of vertical up to Tony Grove. I was feeling really good because the temperatures were starting to cool down. I ran into a lot of runners who were struggling on the climb, but I had a great time. The hiking poles really helped.
At the beginning, I ran into a local ultrarunning celebrity of sorts names Davy Crockett. He has run countless ultras and chronicles his adventures in painstaking detail on his blog. He is also the race director for the Pony Express 100 in Utah. I told him I loved his blog and read it to get ready for this race. He was having a rough day and I dropped him on the climb. I plug in my Fenix 3 to the charger for the long climb. The runner who dunked himself in the stream caught up to me. We chatted and I learned his name was Chris. This was his seventh Bear. He got some separation on me but I caught up at the top of the climb. It was starting to get dark, so I turned on my headlamp and we ran downhill through the dense forest. Chris didn’t have a pacer either, so we agreed to run with each other after Tony Grove aid station.
Tony Grove at mile 51 was a chaotic. It’s a popular crew spot since it is easily accessible. The course is remote. I had no cell service after Logan Peak, so I had no communication with crew Chris to know if he would be there as planned. Out of the dark, someone shouted, “Gabe!” It was crew Chris. He had my gear bag. It was starting to get cold, so I grabbed my Salomon pullover from the bag. I also took a bottle of Coke in place of a soft flask and reloaded on Snickers. He asked if I wanted my running pants, and I made a big mistake by saying “no, I have my ultralight pants in my vest pocket.” I didn’t realize that the temperature was now in the 30s since I was warm from running. I also should have grabbed the winter gloves but stuck with my lightweight running gloves. I’d freeze my ass off for several hours because of these decisions.
Enjoying some delicious broth at Tony Grove aid station.
I found runner Chris near the food table and grabbed a hot broth. It was delicious. Soon I said, “see you at Beaver Creek Lodge at mile 75” to crew Chris, and took off with runner Chris. Runner Chris was an interesting dude. We chatted about racing and life under the stars. He wanted to hear my Leadville story, as he’d heard fragments early while we leapfrogged. When he found out I did my undergrad in chemistry and physics at Berkeley, we had a lengthy discussion about Special Relativity. No shit.
I was distracted talking to runner Chris and didn’t notice how cold I was getting. I finally noticed when I took a bite of a Snickers and it was frozen solid, so I asked to stop to put on my ultralight running pants. They helped but were not as warm as my running pants would have been.
After finishing the obligatory climb out of the aid station, the descent was through a rocky, technical section. Since Chris knew the course, he went through it faster than I felt like I could do safely. His headlamp eventually disappeared in the distance. I got to a flat section and ran in absolute darkness for a couple miles.
Franklin aid station was at mile 62. I knew I had an extra pullover in my drop bag. I generally spread out the drop bags, but had one right after Tony Grove in case I made the kind of mistake I did. As I approached Franklin, there was a runner in distress that two crew or volunteers were helping. She seemed out of it. There were runners still in shorts and t-shirts, so I figured she probably had hypothermia. I asked if I could help but they said they had it.
At Franklin, a volunteer came up to me to ask what he could do to help. I asked him to get my drop bag, which he did. I asked him for some broth to warm up. I found a chair under a heat lamp and dug out my Ironman Arizona pullover. It is a very warm garment that I usually wear while running in the snow. I put it on under my Salomon pullover. It was better but I was still cold. The volunteer hovered around me. There were other runners wrapped in blankets who were staring out into space. I figured their day was done. He was probably worried I had hypothermia. I must have looked rough. I slurped down the broth and grabbed a fresh Coke from the drop bag. Then I stood up and got the hell out of there.
As I started the obligatory climb out of Franklin, a runner came back down the trail. It was Chris. He was sure he’d been through here before and was going the wrong way. I looked at my watch and told him this is the right way. We were both out of it and didn’t say much for the couple minutes we were together. This section was probably the darkest of the night, both literally and figuratively. It was heavily wooded and there was no light from the stars. My watch would beep every 30 minutes to eat something, but that seemed like too much work for my addled brain.
I could feel the fatigue. I started nodding off but would catch myself. All the sudden I woke up standing in a grove of trees near a stream. I said out loud, “why the hell am I in the woods in the middle of the night?” It took a couple moments for realization to sink in. I used my watch to navigate back to the course. Apparently, I fell asleep while hiking and kept going about 100ft before stopping. Luckily, I didn’t walk off a cliff. I don’t know exactly how long I stood there. I realized I had not eaten anything since the broth at the aid station, so I stopped to pound down a bunch of Coke and ate a packet of Gu Chews. I turned my music up to keep me awake. I took out my ultralight rain jacket and put it on top of my layers with the hood up for extra warmth.
Eventually the wooded singletrack connected to a dirt road. I knew I was closing in on Logan River aid station. I tried to run down the road, but had a blister on my right heel. I’d stop at the aid station to put a blister kit on it. The road seemed to go on forever without seeing a course marking, and I started to worry that I had missed a turn. I even stopped a couple times to check my watch and double check on the map on my phone. I was on course.
Logan River at mile 69 eventually came into view. It was ghostly quiet. One volunteer sat at the timing table where I checked in. I went inside the heated tent to tend to my foot. Dirt and rocks had gotten in there, rubbing my heel raw. I bandaged it with a couple Band-Aid Blister packs, which have always been money. I put my shoe on and didn’t feel anything. The other runners sat silently in the tent like wraiths. I grabbed some food and got out of there.
Straight out of the aid station, I had to cross the Logan River. The Bear 100 Facebook group had a video of how to cross without getting wet. I remembered the directions with surprising clarity and navigated over the logs, across the grassy islands, and rock hopped the rest. Getting my feet wet probably would have led to hypothermia, as I was probably on the verge already.
I met up with an older runner and his wife who was pacing him. He was a seasoned ultrarunner and shared stories from his races. I was moving good up the obligatory climb out of the aid station. His stories were a welcomed distraction. After I couple miles, there must have been a runner up ahead whose headlamp was lighting up the trees. However, I saw two people dancing like they were in the Red Room in Twin Peaks. I kept seeing this, but figured I was seeing things. I was tempted to ask the older runner if he saw it too, but thought better of it.
I eventually dropped them near the top of the climb. I was hoping for some running on the descent to warm up, but it was treacherously rocky. A headlamp doesn’t provide much depth perception. I stumbled my way down the mountain toward Beaver Mountian Lodge. Crew Chris would meet me there, and I knew there were a bunch of warm clothes waiting. Eventually the trail dumped out onto a paved road. As I hiked up it, my black G37S pulled up alongside me. It was Chris. I waved at him, and he took off to meet me up ahead.
I stumbled into the Lodge at mile 75 feeling disoriented. Chris later told me I looked like Jim from the show Taxi. I asked him to get all my warm clothes out. I put on my running pants over my shorts and stowed my ultralight running pants in my vest just in case I need them. I got my LG cycling jacket, which is compact but very warm, on in place of the ultralight rain jacket. I got my winter gloves. It was heaven. I felt warm for the first time in about 10 hours.
I felt great leaving Beaver Mountain Lodge. I ran for about a mile before the trail turned, you guessed it, into a climb. As the sun rose, I came upon a sign that said I was crossing the Utah-Idaho border. I was finally out of my long dark night. I came upon another runner who was disoriented and asked me the way. I held up my watch and said, “my watch says it’s straight ahead.” He replied, “wow, that’s one smart watch.” We were both having minor hallucinations. For me, it was mostly seeing manmade objects in the forest, such as cars. As we approached Gibson Basin aid station at mile 81, I saw cars and asked him if they were real. He said he thought they were but wasn’t sure. Turns out they were.
I made a brief stop to slurp down some broth. Leaving the aid stations was a doubletrack section that had been turned into a muddy slopfest by recent rain. The next 20 miles would be a battle against mud as rain rolled in. It would have been runnable under normal circumstances. However, it was slow going trudging through the mud.
I got a surprise at the next aid station at Beaver Creek when crew Chris called out as I approached. He snapped the below picture. He must have been worried and braved the four-wheel drive road to get there. A couple cars had lost their bumpers on the road. I got a fresh pair of shoes and socks from him. A volunteer offered me an egg, cheese, and ham on English muffin, which I gratefully accepted. It was the most delicious breakfast sandwich ever! Chris said he’d meet me at Ranger Dip, the last aid station, to run to the finish with me.
Coming into Beaver Creek raising my poles in triumph.
Immediately upon leaving the aid station, it started raining. Not a downpour but not a light rain either. The jeep road was sticky clay mud. It caked up on my shoes, with about 3 pounds of mud on each shoe. I kept going. There was no quitting now.
The rain kept going, occasionally turning into hail and even snow at one point.
Leftover from a recent snow.
I was able to run the last couple miles to Ranger Dip at mile 92. Chris and his wife were there. I grabbed some fresh socks. The aid station had pancakes, which I greedily scarfed down. Best. Pancakes. Ever.
Chris and I set out to tackle the final section. I was in good spirits since I could smell the finish. The first order of business was the steepest climb of the day, probably a 15% grade. To make it more fun, it was slippery mud. I would have never been able to make it without my poles. I’d plant them ahead of me and then use my upper body to pull myself through the mud.
Battling the mud on the last climb.
We made it to the top and then started downhill with Bear Lake coming into sight, shrouded by the rain clouds. The next 4 miles were basically a mud luge. We slid down and somehow managed not to faceplant. The knee I’d injured at Leadville was a champ until this section. The pain was intense going down the 10%+ grade muddy slope.
After what seemed an eternity, we finally hit the road into town. It was packed dirt, and I knew it as about a mile to the finish. My legs were wrecked, but I said, “Come on, Chris, let’s run this fucker!” I took off at a good clip with pain radiating from my legs. I just went to my pain cave. We passed a bunch of other runners who were walking it in. I got to the finish area in a small park near Bear Lake and saw the best sight of the race: my ladies cheering for me! I grabbed my girls and asked if they wanted to run to the finish but they said no. I said, “I’ve waited 100 miles for this” and sprinted to the finish.
At the finish with my ladies.
Key Take Aways:
I’m thrilled to have made it to the finish line. About 30% of the runners did not. I had no time goal since I realized that would be stupid with only two weeks to prepare. I left a bunch of time out there that I could get back with better execution now that I’ve gotten the rookie mistakes out of the way.
Highlights:
1. Mental game. I didn’t think about quitting, not even for a single second.
2. Endurance. I didn’t feel like I hit the wall at any point. Often, I had to go slower than I wanted because of the technical terrain the first 80 miles and the mud the last 20 miles.
3. Made it through a hiker’s 100. This course favors strong hikers with 22,000ft of vertical and technical trails. Since it burns so many SAUs to go out for a day in the mountains, I mostly run. I’d probably select a more runnable 100 course to play to my strength. But I still adapted. The hiking poles saved my race in the mud the last 20 miles.
4. Pulled together a race plan on two weeks’ notice. Most people would have spent the entire season preparing for this. For my next 100, I’d have at least 3 months of focused preparation.
Lowlights
1. Definitely have a pacer at night. I lost a lot of time in the dark when my mental focus faded. Runners would come by babbling incoherently but their pacer told them to keep going and forced them to eat.
2. Practice running through the night. I’ll admit it – I hate running at night. Although the more I do it, the better it gets. For almost 11 hours, my world was staring at a circle of light on the ground in front of me. I’d do a couple runs where I take off Friday night so I’m tired from the week and go through to sunrise.
3. Eat more real food. For the first 50 miles, I got most of my calories from sports nutrition. I hit a point where the thought of drinking Tailwind was disgusting. I’d eat real food such as sandwiches at the aid stations and use Tailwind and gels between. I’d target getting about 50% of my calories from real food.
4. Always have enough gear to be too warm. That way, I just take off the extra layer. Better to be too warm than too cold. I was dangerously close to hypothermia at certain points in the night when I was forced to go slow due to the terrain.
What’s Next:
I’m more beat-up than I’ve ever been from a race. A week later, my legs are still sore, especially my right leg from where I had to change my gait down the last muddy descent because my knee hurt. I’ll take all of October to recover. Then I’ll drop into the outseason to gear up for next year’s adventures. I may squeeze in a local 50k if it looks like fun. A buddy approached me about doing the Zion Traverse, so I may do that if we can make it work. Otherwise, I’m done for 2017 – it would be hard to go out on a higher note.
For 2018, I am considered the following paths (from most preferred to least):
1. Hybrid Ironman-ultra season. I’m signed up for Oceanside in April, and would add on Ironman Santa Rosa in May. Then I’d switch to ultrarunning. I’d probably do the Wasatch 100 in early September and maybe an October/November 100 such as Javelina or Rio Del Lago. Or I could go ultra-stupid and do the Moab 240 in October. I like doing Ironman training early in the year when 80% of my training is indoors to build a raw fitness engine. Then I’d run in the mountains through the summer. I swore I’m never going to waste another summer in Utah training for an Ironman.
2. Be an ultrarunner. I would target 2-3 100s, with an early season 100 such as Zion. I want to see what I can do as a runner. There is no EN for ultras. Most of the books and advice you get is vague and general. Now I have the knowledge to really hone my plan. I’m going to enter the lottery for Western States and Hardrock since I did a qualifier at the Bear. If I get in to either, I’ll go this path.
3. Be a triathlete (or how I learned to love the Spandex again). It would be the same as #1 with the Alaskaman Extreme Triathlon added on. The run is mostly trails, so I'd be able to get time in the mountains in. I have friends who live in Alaska near where the race finished in Girdwood. I’ve always wanted to visit Alaska, so this is a perfect excuse. I’ll definitely take this path one season, but probably not next year.
4. Be a cyclist. I’d like to take another swing at the Leadville MTB 100 where I could focus on it for 3 months to prepare. Training for the MTB 100 while also training for the Run 100 was challenging. It also didn’t help that I started off the season as a shitty MTBer. I’d probably do other cycling races such as the Tushar Crusher and Lotoja that have been on my list for a while. I’ll throw my name in the lottery for Leadville and see what happens. One of these seasons I need to do this to actually become a good cyclist, but running is so much more fun!
Thanks for following my adventures and misadventures this year! More epic shit to come in 2018…
Belt buckle from the Bear 100. I
plan to wear this shit out of this!
Comments
As always, living through your race report leaves me totaly exhausted. And seeing your smile at the end leaves me with a grin as well. Keep on truckin'
@Al Truscott that was definitely the lowest point of the race. Gotta experience the low lows to experience the high highs.
@Robert Sabo it is kind of crazy when I'm excited to cover 10 miles in 3 hours. With your speed, you would shred an ultra. Few ultras are as mountainous as the Bear. Something to think about...
I got my custom belt made with my Bear 100 bucket. I am totally going to wear this like a boss!
Even to me, it seemed kind of crazy to do a 100 that was harder than Leadville. I was planning to take your advice and do the Pony Express 100 on October 19th. It only has something like 3,500ft of vertical. I went out to the west desert on my MTB to check it out. While it was unique to run the Pony Express trail and cool to see herds of wild horses, I had a hard time getting excited about running on a dirt road for my first 100. When I got the email that I could have a spot in the Bear 100 which many Utah ultraruuners told me was their favorite 100, I was so excited that I knew I would finish off pure enthusiasm. Strangely I never doubted it even for a second.
I'm looking forward to your next phase of adventures after Kona. I think you will not only crush the 100 distance but you will also love it. It is a strategy game on another level from an Ironman or 50-miler. Like you said, it's mostly mental after the first 50 miles. A local ultrarunner characterized it as: "run a 50 miler, and then run another 50 miler with the flu." I'd love to come out and pace you, if I can make it work with my schedule.
Epilogue: Recovery
Just a note on my experience recovering from the Bear for those considering their first 100. I've been pretty much bullet proof since 2013 when I seriously entered endurance sports with SuperFrog 70.3 as my first half ironman. Since then I've done all the stuff below in my signature. I usually recovered in a week, even from the knee injury I suffered at the Leadville Run 100.Recovering from the Bear has been a different story. My right leg (the one injured at Leadville) was so wrecked that it was swollen like I had edema. I had to break out the compression socks to control the swelling. It did the same thing after Leadville but it went away in a day. This lasted about 4-5 days.
After about a week, I didn't feel like the soreness was improving. My doctor (who is an endurance athlete) referred me to a sports chiropractor. He worked me over with some sort of electric hammer device and applied acupuncture. That seemed to finally start the recovery. I was able to do easy rides on the trainer about two weeks after the race. It took four weeks before I could do an easy 2-mile run.
I'm coming up on five weeks out from the race and am finally feeling back to about 95%. Since my legs were wrecked, I did a lot of upper body strength work. It made me realize how much strength and explosiveness I've lost since I switched from strength-based workouts to endurance sports. I dug out my old Asylum workout program (kind of a sports based P90X) to go through a 30 day cycle this month to recapture some strength and explosiveness. I'll switch back to endurance training in December once I know which path I'll take from my "What's Next" above after the Western States and Hardrock lotteries.
The key take away is that I will plan about six weeks recovery time after a 100 miler. As always, your mileage may vary.
It's hard to simulate a 100 in training. With a focused three months to prepare, I'd probably target having some ultra high mileage weeks where I got in 24+ hours on terrain similar to my A race, or even better do the course itself over three days.
Looking forward to following you as you take on your first 100 next year. We should definitely chat before. There's a lot that isn't in the books. Unfortunately, I haven't found anyone who has created a recipe for success like RnP have for triathlons.
@Jenn Edwards thanks! It's been a hell of an adventure this year! Just noticed you signature: "Don't call it a comeback, I've been here for year." Love it!