Distance Run

I’ll have more soon!

http://www.wrgross.com/montanaimages.htm

NOTE: I’m reworking my website, this url will change… it is currently non-functioning.

Bill

The week leading up to the race was cold and rainy. Thursday and Friday saw afternoon sun, but the prediction was for clouds and rain on race day.

Jocelyn and I left Hungry Horse for the race start at 5:15 in the morning. Runner check-in was to start at 7:00 with an 8:00 race start.

Spotted Bear is 47 miles north of the dam containing the Hungry Horse Reservoir. The winding forest road follows the west side. In the pitch dark, half asleep, and completely pumped with adrenaline, the hour and a half ride must have been terrifying for Jocelyn!

The race route is point to point. Spotted Bear to Hungry Horse. We’d drive the race route on the way to the start area. Since Jocelyn had not seen any of the course, I was excited for her to drive back, taking in the amazing view once day broke.

Flashlights, car lights and headlamps made the race start area seem almost like a scene from a sci-fi. Oddly, this far out in the Great Bear Wilderness, I did almost feel like an alien. This area of the country was made for animals and trees, not people.

The sky began to lighten as the runners began moving toward the starting area.

Looking around the crowd of 40 or so runners I felt much more at ease than I expected. Racing mates were talking about prior runs, catching up with one another, and discussing their strategy.

The race director sternly warned us of the dangers of undertaking this endeavor. We were all about to put ourselves under enormous stress. Runners were warned to stay on the course. “They don’t call this the Great Bear Wilderness for nothing.”

Boooom….

With the roar of a shotgun blast, the race had begun.

I was immediately overcome by the realization that the pack runners I was with were not humans in an animal’s world. No human in their right might would attempt what we were doing. We had checked our humanity at the door. It was not the human that would carry us through this journey, it was the animal.

Though cloudy and cold, the rain held off. After some time the sun began to peek through the clouds. No doubt to sneak a glimpse of the sheer insanity that was unfolding on the ground below.

The clouds began to lift, revealing the wondrous Flathead Mountains off to the east. Snow covered peaks could be seen rising above the clouds. The views were breathtaking, and kept my mind happily occupied.

I made small talk with a few runners, but for the most part, I enjoy the solitude of running alone. Really, I enjoy the fight!

The first stop I made was at mile 27. I changed my shirt, shoes and socks, had something to eat, and headed back out.

About four and a half hours had gone by. I was 18 minutes ahead of a goal 10 minute pace and I was feeling good.

But something wasn’t working right. Something I ate at 27 had screwed up my stomach bad. Every step I took made me want to throw up. And I wanted to. I wanted to pull to the side and stick my finger down my throat. Whatever was down there needed to come out.

My fear was that I would bomb if I couldn’t keep a constant flow of energy into my body. I tried to eat a fig newton but couldn’t even bear to chew it. Things were getting dim, and I was just barely over the half-way point.

I couldn’t shake it. About 8 miles passed and I felt spent. I was sure that if I couldn’t eat soon, my body would call it quits. My vision was beginning to get cloudy. Likely the result of my plummeting blood sugar level. My legs felt great, though. I kept repeating to myself, “just let your legs do the talking.” I was convinced that I was the last runner… That I was bringing up the rear.

I came to a fairly steep grade. Near the top I could see Jocelyn parked in a pull-off area taking pictures of snow-capped Great Northern across the reservoir. I became overwhelmed. I had reached a level of despair that I’d never known, and seeing her at the top threw me into a spin. She began heading down the hill toward me.

My head was telling me to jump in the car and settle for a DNF, but deep down there was a small flicker of hope telling me that I would never quit.

By the time Jocelyn made it to me, the internal struggle must have been written all over my face. “How do you feel,” she asked. “Like hell,” I replied trying to hold back the true depths of my anguish. Almost instinctively, she knew what to do. She began immediately telling me, with as much visual imagery as possible, all the things she had seen and done in the past 5 hours.

It was exactly what I needed. It was just enough distraction to let the flicker of hope grow into a little flame, and it warmed me inside.

She gave me a kiss goodbye as we got to the crest and I started running again. Though the pain in my stomach hadn’t lessened, my attitude had begun to change. A chill ran down my back that made my hair stand on end and my ears tingle. I’ve had that sensation before. It washes over me and imbues feelings of invincibility. I’d make it no matter what.

At mile 36 I had my secret weapon waiting. When food fails, turn to chemicals. Chocolate covered espresso beans. They are magic. The caffeine would quell my overwhelming hunger, and provide just enough stimulation to keep me moving. I was still unable and afraid to eat. My eyesight was getting pretty foggy now.

I ate two, that’s all I could manage.

About 10 minutes later I felt like superman. Perhaps it was psychosomatic, but I swear those little buggers saved me.

My upset stomach gave way to a severe cramp, naturally (ugh). It was so bad that it was hard to breathe! I was certain that my inability to take any food and hardly any liquid in the past 15 miles was to blame. I very rarely cramp, so hoping for a quick recovery I pushed on.

Crossing the 40 mile mark was surreal. I was back on track. I was running the level and downgrades, and walking at least part of the hills. I was hitting a 9 minute pace, but I wasn’t sure how!

There were about 3 runners who were in close proximity to me throughout the race. Both had support vehicles that would drive ahead a few miles and wait, providing aide as their runner approached.

We exchanged words, but few.

I rounded a bend at about 45. Through the trees I saw something unnatural. Something man-made. “Could it be?” I thought. “The dam!” I shouted, not quite realizing I had, and too delirious to care.

All doubt flew from me. At this point the struggle was over. For the first time in about 25 miles I was 100% certain that unless I got mauled, I was crossing the finish line.

My pace quickened. At mile 47 just this side of the Dam was the last rest stop. I munched a piece of orange and refilled my water bottle. I tried to make some light joking conversation with the couple manning the station. “I heard you guys were giving rides to the finish.” They laughed and encouraged me onward. They must have thought I was nuts. I was grinning ear-to-ear and must have looked like a little kid at Christmas.

I pushed onward.

Grinding up the final stretch I saw two of the support teams that I’d been frog-hopping for the last 8 hours. “Wohoo!” they cheered. “Keep it up, almost there!” Jocelyn was there too! The last time she’d seen me I was in my depths. “Yay, Baby!” she cheered, happy to see me with a smile on my face.

The final quarter mile of the race is marked by a short bushwhack near the finish line that culminates in a steep climb probably equivalent to a single flight of stairs.

It was during this very short trek through the woods that I realized that I was, for all intent and purposes, no longer in complete control of my faculties. I was in a dream. Someone was pulling the strings, but it was not me. The fact that my eyesight had grown significantly worse probably helped contribute to my dreamlike state.

As I took the last step up the bushwhack my left hip flexor nearly locked. It felt like I’d been shot! “Oh no you don’t!” I told myself. “Enjoy the pain, and keep going!”

It was only about 300 feet to the finish line and I broke into a sprint.

As I crossed the finish line I threw my hands up into the air, turned my face to the sky, and let out a roar!

I had done it! 50 miles in just over 8 hours and 30 minutes.

In those 8.5 hours I had experienced the full range of emotions. From complete exhilaration to being plunged into the depths of despair, bereft of all hope. And in those darkest of moments I had found something truly remarkable. I began to understand a quote I’d once read:

“Your biggest challenge isn’t someone else. It’s the ache in your lungs and the burning in your legs, and the voice inside you that yells, “CAN’T,” but you don’t listen. You just push harder. And then you hear the voice whisper, “can.” And you discover that the person you thought you were is no match for the one you really are.” - Unknown

Bill

This morning I took my morning run toward Mt. Helena, and ran up to the tree line. It was exhausting. The altitude was about 4200 feet, and I’m not used to that thin air.

I flew back to the motel to shower up, and I headed over to hike to the peak.

Mt. Helena alone would be reason enough to move here. Beautiful and accessible. It literally buttresses the town.

I took about 125 pictures just making the 1,000 foot ascent to the peak.

The hike was 2 hours of blissful reflection and dreaming.

What a treat.

But alas, my feet grow itchy.

By nightfall I had driven about 400 miles through Butte, Anaconda, Missoula and back to Whitefish.

I was desperate to find a place in Missoula, but being a tourist town, and the home of the University of Montana, I couldn’t find a motel for less than $100.

And, to complicate matters, I couldn’t see mountains. I headed back to what has become base-camp.

Motel 8 is $40, and 2 blocks from the cutest coffee shop, City Brew Coffee, which has awesome coffee, great service, and free internet access!

Wednesday and half of Thursday will be spend catching up on homework, taking breaks to hit the hills if the sun comes out.

Bill

Today I was desperate to get to Glacier! The sun was peeking through the clouds and it would be a great day to take pictures.

But alas! My journey was thwarted. A rockslide had deposited a boulder on the road through Logan Pass, and the route was closed. Argh!

Ok… Plan B. I looped back down to Route 2 and headed east, toward Browning, in the heart of the Blackfeet Indian Reservation.

The snow began to fall as I descended from the mountains to the great plains that extend, literally, all the way to the edge of the earth.

I had to jump out of the car to let the flakes land on me… I LOVE snow!

I made it to Browning and was not too enthusiastic about stopping there.

I set my sights for Helena. I’d crossed about 100 miles to Browning, and had about 200 more to Helena… It would be a haul.

For at least 150 miles, the scenery was the same. Gentle rolling hills of golden grasses extending as far as the eye could see. Far of to the west I cold see the mountains. I prayed Helena would be closer to them.

Indeed it is. Helena, the state capital is very inviting. Nestled right at the base of beautiful Mt. Helena and between the arms of the Rockies, this town is a haven for outdoors types.

I’ve fallen in love with Helena. I could move here…

Bill

I got up with the sunrise (about 7:00 local time, it felt like) and headed out for a run.

I missed my Saturday run because of my poor sleeping habits.

I ran down 93 and took route 3 east toward Glacier.

There was a fog over the ground, but sunshine above. I ran past a grove of pine trees there the sunlight through the boughs cast long shafts of light through the fog. Off in the distance I could see the mountains of Swan Range, and peeking over, the mountaintops of Flathead Range.

These peaks were probably 7 to 10 miles away, but I still had to look up to see their cloud covered peaks.

As the clouds lifted off the peaks, the crests were covered in fresh snow… It’s as if the mountains were dunked in powdered sugar. Beautiful.

This was one of many runs where I told myself, “No wonder ultrarunning is big out here…”

After a shower and a warm cup of coffee, I hit the road. My destination was Glacier National Park. I wanted to get into some big mountains!

My route took me past Hungry Horse, and I saw a sign for the dam. I decided to take a quick detour that ended up taking all day.

My first trek took me to the base of the Hungry Horse Dam. It’s huge, and the valley below the dam is beautiful.

Next, I headed back around to the top of the dam. I thought I’d check out the race finish area, so I could explain to Joce where to meet me.

Ok… I figured that part out, but I decided to drive the route. It was early, and I thought I’d just head down the route to Spotted Bear (where the race starts) and try to find a motel down there.

Man was I in for a treat. Mostly cloudy, some sprinkles, but good visibility.

The bulk of Hungry Horse Reservoir extends about 30 miles southward where it is fed, including various tributaries, by the South Fork of the Flathead River.

Swan Range on the west side, Flathead Range on the east. Flathead Range exposes a beautiful display to the reservoir. From north to south, Ousel, Hungry Horse, Nyack, Great Northern (8,700), Adams, Felix, Baptiste, Circus, Crossover, Condor, Green and Spotted Bear scratch at the heavens with their snow-covered peaks.

I had found what I had come for, big mountains.

I made my way to the staging area. This is one of the areas where my limited comprehension of the English language is completely insufficient to describe the surroundings.

On Saturday, it will be dark for the ride down to the staging area. I’m profoundly excited that this view will be the first thing that Jocelyn sees when the sun comes up!

These pictures do not do the area justice. The pine trees on the far shore are at least 35 to 50 feet tall, if that’s any help as you try to visually approximate the magnitude of these images.

Oh yeah, Spotted Bear is not a town… It’s an intersection of two roads, as far as I can tell… No buildings, no nothing… I headed back to Whitefish for the night.

Bill

Hopefully day 1 would not be an indicator of how my trip would go :(

I woke up 10 minutes after my flight was supposed to leave!

In any event, we started heading to the airport immediately. Joce convinced me to call the airline… I didn’t want to, hoping to just get there. Actually, I think it was because I wanted to delay telling anyone I’d missed my plane. I try to be responsible, but I guess sometimes we all make mistakes.

In any event, the airline was very helpful, booking me on the next flight to St. Paul and the connector to Kalispell. I spent 3 hours doing homework at Reagan before we left.

I had an 8 hour layover in St. Paul! There are, after all, only two flights into Kalispell daily.

I wandered that mammoth airport for about an hour before I decided to see if I could do any sight-seeing.

There was a train that headed downtown to Minneapolis and I headed down there to get dinner and see the town.

Big buildings and a good cheeseburger, that’s just about what I got out of that visit… My goal is to get away from the city life.

I had about two hours left at the airport. I meet the coolest old-timer who had lived in Kalispell for the past 25 years. He gave me all kinds of tips on places to go, see, eat. I’ll try to stay in touch with him.

I arrived in Kalispell at about midnight. It was 2 am before I found a Super 8 in Whitefish (just north of Kalispell) with a room. $41 after tax… sweet!

Bill