Bighorn Wild and Scenic

Bighorn Wild and Scenic 100 Miler (or in some folks' case, 66 miles) Dayton, WY

I have wanted to complete a mountain 100 miler for quite awhile, especially after I got injured training for Wasatch a few years back. With Rocky Raccoon under my belt, I felt that I finally had the confidence to make take the big step. So, I registered for the Bighorn Wild and Scenic 100 miler in Wyoming.

A few weeks before the race, I found myself sitting in the office of an orthopedic surgeon listening to the gory details on how he proposed to move tendons in my foot/ankle, and then chop and rearrange my heel bone. Sometimes knowledge is not a good thing, and in the case of my MRI, this is very true: I had learned that I ruptured a tendon in my right ankle. When it came time for questions, I asked only one, and one that only an ultra running would ask: "I have this hundred mile race in a couple of week - can I run it?" I guess sports doctors are used to this sort of question from runners because he didn't even flinch as he replied, "you can run it just as long as you don't mask the pain - no aspirin, no ibuprofen, no Tylenol. Just let pain be your guide." Second opinions are sometimes a good thing and my regular sports doctor echoed the same set of instructions. Well in my mind, I now have a green light to run and I'm thinking that I just may be able to pull this thing off. I did all the training, including runs at Bandera and the Guadalupe Mountains. At about this same time period, I saw a woman finishing the Loop at the Rogue series wearing this cool looking ankle brace on both ankles. Since I was working the finish line, I had the opportunity to ask her about them. She highly recommended the brace, so now I had a new mission: find someplace that sells them locally before I'm off to Bighorn. Thanks to my friend, Shan, I got not one, but two braces for my right ankle and a backup for the left one in case sometime happened to the good ankle. I'm now armed with my secret weapon. i.e. ankle brace and my confidence continues to grow. I keep thinking, "you know I just might be able to finish this thing."

Well all the stuff with traveling comes together. Diana & I are at the airport. We meet up with Joe & Carey. After an uneventful flight (the best kind) we arrive in Billings, Montana, we all pack into a rental car, and head down to Wyoming.

There was the usual packet pickup, dropping off drop bags, and the pre-race meal at a local pizza establishment. The next morning, Friday, was the pre-race meeting at Scott Park in Dayton, and then the car-pooling to the start line for an 11 a.m. start.

As everyone gathered on Tongue River Canyon road the excitement and anticipation were growing. I remember thinking that there are so many present that had prepared so hard, and not all would make it to the finish line. This wasn't the sort of race that one would decide to do on a whim. There is an incredible amount preparation and planning involved, not to mention, the training. And I'm sure everyone was thinking that they were going to finish, including myself with the ankle that had the ruptured tendon. Silly me. At that moment, if I could gaze into a crystal ball I would see only 53 of the 100 people standing around me finishing.

At this point, I was still under the delusion that I was going to be one of the ones that pursued all the way to the finish line. Heck, I never had a DNF - I always managed to pull a race off no matter how difficult it became for me. As far as I was concerned I had a really strong pacer, although she was running the whole race with me as a registered runner. I had asked Diana, my wife, to pace me for the last 70 miles. Yep, in this race you can have a pacer for seventy miles and that, should have been a sign of things to come. Well anyhow, Diana agreed to pace, but said "hell if I have to run 70 miles, I am going to run the whole thing and get credit for a 100 miler." So she thought.

The race started at 11 a.m. and off everyone went. It was the usual race start as everyone took off much faster than needed. So I thought, as I found out later that you really need a fast start on this one. I snapped a few photos right off the bat, and my running partner, later to become my pacer, quickly points out that I need to pick up the pace. I replied that it my race and I would take all the pictures that I want - thinking that I had all the time in the world. Shortly we leave Tongue River Canyon road and start up the Tongue River Canyon trail. All I remember at this point is that we are starting to go up and up, and then up some more. The entire course has 17,500 feet of climb and 18,000 feet of descent. Soon we come across the Lower Sheep Creek aid station, which is no more that a person with a clipboard and a bunch of water jugs on the ground. Diana asks him if we made the cutoff and he looks at us like we are crazy - hell we just started this thing within the last hour.

On Tongue River Canyon trail I meet up with Randall from Austin. Several years earlier, Diana and I did a Grand Canyon crossing with him. At Bighorn we ran together on and off during the first part of the race, regrouping again just before the Dry Fork aid station. After Dry Fork we ran with Randall to Cow Camp, but didn't see him again after that.

So as my race report goes, this is the end of the story; I have yet to finish one. All my race reports are officially DNFs.

But wait, this one is going to be the exception. It's now months later and I just visited the Big Horn web site - hey, it's only 298 days until Big Horn 2006. I think I may have time to prepare for this one, as I do have unfinished business in Wyoming. Oh damn, I forgot that ankle. This is same ankle that burst my 100 mile mountain dreams in 2005.

So lets see how much this dinosaur can remember of what happen at Big Horn in June of 2005. The memory that stands out the most is going into the Footbridge aid station the second time and having them ask for my race number; I officially missed the cut-off big-time. And I almost thanked them for taking the number, but kept my mouth shut. So how did I get to this point? Well lets look back up the trail. I can remember going into March Springs aid station, on the return trip from the turn around, and asking how far it was to Foot Bridge, thinking that was the next aid station. The friendly staff there inform me that the next aid station was the Narrows, not Footbridge. Up to this point, about 60 miles into the race, I felt that I still had a chance of making the Foot Bridge cut-off, even with all the 50 milers buzzing past me. With this new knowledge, I attempted to do the math in my head. My sleep-deprived brain wasn't computing very fast, but the big picture was starting to become apparent - there was no way in hell I was going to get to Foot Bridge in time. Well Diana & I left Marsh Springs together but she would pull ahead and then wait up for me. This went on for a little while during which that damn ankle was talking loud and clear to me. It didn't seem to care one bit about my secret weapon, i.e. the ankle brace or the race. It left me no choice, it wanted something to mask the pain and it wanted it NOW. I thought about trying to continue to ignore the pain, but realized what's the point, as I now knew the next cut-off was not attainable. So now it became apparent to me that it was the time to take that little something I had in my pack just in case it was needed. And I remembered my promise to the doctors and knew now the race was over for me. I met up with Diana and explained what I just did, and then we talked about her continuing the race. I thought that maybe she had a chance, and I guess she thought the same thing as she took off. So now I continued on at a slow walk knowing that I was finished and feeling a bit sorry for myself. Going on a little further, I came upon Diana sitting with her feet in a mountain stream. She looked up at me and said, "we started this thing together and we will finish it together." This did mean a lot to me. We continued down the trail to Footbridge (the nearest place to get a ride out) together and along the way we joined up with Chris and her pacer Gabe. She was finished also, so the four of us made our way together talking about various aspects of the race.

Now that I covered my end of the race, lets look back up the trail even a little more and see the challenge that Diana and I did conquer. We made it to Foot Bridge the first time about an hour behind our goal, but 1 1/2 hours before the cut-off. For the last several hours we had been cat and mousing with a Louise from Chicago. We had felt good about our progress and still felt certain that we would finish this thing. Silly us, we still haven't even gone 30 miles yet. Somewhere around Bear Camp we met up with Chris - I can't remember if was before or after, but either way we ran with her most of the way to Footbridge. Leaving Footbridge there is basically an eighteen miles up hill section to the turn around. At this point we didn't realize what a challenge this would be. It was starting to get dark and I felt that most of the uphill was going well with a pretty good walking pace, well so I thought. We made to the Narrow pretty quick, and then there was the Marsh aid station, And, somewhere before and after Marsh aid station there were the roaring mountain stream crossings on narrow and slippery bridges consisting of several logs tired together; I remember one had a rope to hold onto. I think that there were three bridges. Most of this is kind of fuzzy now - I guess that is why reports should be written right after the race.

In the vicinity of Elk Camp aid station is this shoe sucking black mud, and it is everywhere. This mud was so much fun that I decided to do a dunker head first into it as I passed a runner flaying his arms. Oh, so much fun! I was covered from head to toe with this sticky, smelly back mud. This is where my real challenge started. My first concern was hyperthermia as it was starting to get cold. I found a large flat rock and got the muddy shirt off. Diana, Chris and Gabe helped me get things cleaned up. It turned out that the hand bottle that I had my Spiz (nutrition) in was covered in mud as well as my gel bottle and the hose to my hydration back. We managed to get the hydration hose clean, but the mud remained on my source of nutrition. And believe me it didn't taste very good. At this point, I should have realized that I was screwed, but I didn't. We continued on, now concerned about the cut-off time at the turn around. During this period there were quite a few people now coming down from the turn around. I can't remember exactly when, or in what order, but we did see Carey, Arne, and Joe mixed in the crowd of faces that past us in the dark. Things were not looking good for us as tried to find our way through the snow drifts. One drift I got suck as my leg broke through the crusty snow and needed Diana help to get pulled out - she had to crawl on her hands and knees on the snow to avoid breaking through.

Finally Diana and I made it to the top, but still had about a mile to go before we would get to the Porcupine aid station (48 mile point). It was getting light and we were running out of time, but we pushed ourselves as hard as we could. And it paid off as we made the cut-off by a whopping ten minutes. But that meant we had only ten minutes to do everything we needed to do: eat, get clean dry stuff on, replenish our nutrition for the return trip, and get weighed (if you loose or gain too much you are out). Well with that kind of time restriction, mistakes were made and we started the second half in less than perfect shape. To make things worse, we missed a turn a little ways out of Porcupine and before the error was realized we added what would turn out to be about another mile.

It was a new day, we were feeling much better, and we were headed down finally. As we approached the snow drifts we found navigating through them much easier in the daylight. Before we knew it we were at Elk Camp again. They were eating breakfast and the coffee smelled so good. I asked them for a cup and one was poured from the pot sitting on the campfire. Oh it smelled so good, but the first and only slip burned the hell out of my month. Leaving Elks Camp we started looking back for the 50 Milers. They started at 6 a.m. from Porcupine and the best I could figure they were due. Soon they came blasting down, and this section was a single track, so as I heard them approach I would have to step off the trail. This went on for what seemed to be an eternity. Also in this section we caught up with Chris and Gabe, which sort of surprised us because we left Porcupine before them. But then there was that missed turn, so it made sense. 

With all that said, the story is now back at Footbridge. We are tired and defeated as we prepare for our ride back to Dayton. Chuck was waiting for Chris and he had a nice big rental that we packed our stuff and bodies, as well another unfortunate runner, into. It was a long ride back on bumpy dirt roads that went up into Montana before turning onto a highway that took us back to Wyoming. As I sat bouncing around with cramping legs I was so grateful that Chuck was there.

Back in Dayton, we watch and waited for runners to finish, ate burgers, drank a few beers, and soaked our tired legs in the Tongue River. As the clocked continued to tick, we watched for our friends to finish. First there was Robert King and then eventually Joe Prusatis - but now no one else. Our group of seven runners from Texas, there were only two finishers.

Just think, there are 298 days until Big Horn 2006. Will I see you there?

This report was stated June 26, 2005 and finished on August 24th - no longer a DNF, but rather now a DFL.