Spot the Dead Potato. 2021 Beaverhead 100k

July 11, 2021

Spot the Dead Potato. 2021 Beaverhead 100k

Idaho. I can’t believe I travelled this far and suffered so much just so that I could use the potatoes meme in my blog. But admit it, it’s worth it. So what’s in Idaho besides potatoes and a lot of ex-Californians? Well, there is this little thing called the Beaverhead 100k race, something AJW calls a mini-Hardrock. The Beaverhead and I have a rough history. I tried this once in 2017, but a swollen weenus and at the time unknown reaction to penicillin doomed my efforts. With a healthy elbow, what else could go wrong?

A lot actually. I practiced the Marie Kondo approach to training. If it doesn’t spark joy, throw it out! I ran sparingly in the latter half of 2020, with just two of those months breaching 100 miles. 2021 was even worse. Ankle sprain (rocks), followed by knee sprain(surfing) followed by more ankle sprain (more rocks), followed by calf cramps concomitant with tight knees (cycling) sparked no joy. Averaged a decidedly non-ultra 12 miles/week for most of 2021. My calves finally healed by the end of May and I had 4 weekends in June to get a few long runs in and gain some confidence in my non-elbow body parts. Was all my cross training sufficient? Only the nose knows if my toes goes, but my ankles please, be the bee’s knees. And not just ankles, but also, heads, shoulders, knees and toes, knees and toes.

The Beaverhead course is brutal but parsimonious. Start at the Bannock pass on the Continental Divide trail separating Montana and Idaho. Go north a little shy of 100km, and then rapidly descend 4,000 ft in about 4 miles back to civilization on quads, knees and toes with 58 miles under them. Follow the flags or the Continental Divide Trail (CDT) signs. The route is up Q’s chin then down into Picard’s ear in the above photo. Feeling uncomfortable yet?

In March, 2021, still mask deep in schizophrenic lock-down in the US, the Beaverhead announced the opening of a few more slots. Since California races were still being cancelled, it seems like a good idea at the time to sign up, healthy or not. Like most adventures on Ultrasignup, everything seems like a good idea until you have to actually do them. Typically, it does not turn into the journey you expect but an adventure you don’t expect. And as my kids have observed, every race is harder than expected. Toona (real initials, A.F.) also signed up this adventure, having rarely raced outside her Shire. Little did she know, this was going to turn into a real shit Shire. I was hoping to have an amazing adventure like Frodo or Bilbao, but instead ended up being the Gollum in this tale.

Hot fire on Chief Joseph Pass

Friday afternoon before the race, Toona and I made our trek from Hamilton, Montana into Salmon, Idaho. Just in time, a forest fire erupted like Mount Doom to the northeast of the Beaverhead course. There was already a 15,000 acre fire to the west of it. Mother nature just spiced things up to add to the LoTR theme of this race. Gee. Thanks, mom.

Race briefing was held at 6pm in Salmon, Idaho. Keep in mind the shuttles to the start line left at 2:15 AM. Allowing time for the briefing itself, dinner, and morning prep, we got at least 12 minutes and 38 seconds of sleep. It may have been a few minutes more but that’s what it felt like. Taking the hour-long bus ride to the start, I would point out the scenery to Toona. “And to the right, is Idaho at night”, I’d say. At least it kept the ride interesting.

The race starts at an unholy 4AM. We were somewhat grateful because with the anticipated 95 F heat in the valley, we could use all the early morning cool available. A very short ramble up a fire road led to the single track CDT. The thin air at 7,600-9,500 ft made climbing the hills difficult though most runners mainly stuck together, unlike the Fellowship of the Ring and more like King Arther and Patsy, in this dark and extremely expensive forest.

I don’t know what’s in the Idaho water, but I had to poo twice in the first 15 miles. At this rate, it would be an 8-poop 100k. Maybe I should have stocked up on lembras bread. Even in the extended edition, I did not see a single character in LoTR ever poop.

After about 20 miles is when my training plan really came into play. This was my second attempt at some form of couch-to-100k. The first wasn’t very successful, but this one had 4 times as much running in it: 4 long training runs of 10+ miles! While my previous couch-to-50k efforts saw success, I need to fine tune my C2-100 plans, me thinks. My conservative start slow and save energy strategy was not paying off at all. Also, after not racing in years, I think I’d forgotten how to race. Reflecting back on it, and with apologies to my wife, I usually start fast, blow up, but somehow hang on until the finish and get my participation award.

The more you complain the longer God makes you live.

After mile 20, though I could still run the few downhills, I found that I was no longer running the flats, and wheezing my way uphill while gasping for air. The elevation and smoke would be my excuse du jour, not my brilliant training plan. After all, my previous one-run training plan got me 50 miles at Sean O’Brien. Surely a 4-run training plan would get me 200 miles! The math checks out. It turns out, I would check out before the math did.

Eat your damn oatmeal

The mile 27-ish aid station is the first place to meet crew. My father-in-law, your typical Montana western boy cut from the same Carhartt cloth as Wilford Brimley was among those waiting. I slowly dragged my ass into the aid station. My wife would tell me to get my head in the game. Wilford would tell me to eat my damn oatmeal. And also, they moved the aid station this year and it’s up the road another 0.6 miles and +500 ft. Move your feetus or get diabeetus.

Toona, after following an actual months-long training plan, had long since dropped my aging ass, and was already 10+ minutes up the road. So when it comes to training plans, debate settled, I suppose. I considered my options at this point - the probability of making the mile 38 cut-off was exactly and approximately what Boromir asserts, zero. Also where my hopes and dreams went - up my butt. However, having no hope does not mean one should have no hope. Sure I wanted to turn into a potato and sprout there on the ground, but I continued on for another 1200 ft climb over the next 4.5 miles. Sounds simple enough, but at that altitude, rocky trails, having to carry horse flies that followed me the entire journey, on my tired untrained legs, like the actor who played Boromir, I was destined to be a meme fatale.

Two hours later at the mile 32 aid station, I had an hour left to go the next six miles, but decided to save my aching joints from the unnecessary wear and tear. So, I only got half as far as I’d hoped. I remember 100k’s being so much easier. But as “they” say, the older you get the better athlete you used to be. I am going to be such a great used-to-so-great athlete in another ten years. Who says growing old is hard?

That's 0 for 2

Toona made it to mile 38 cutoff but missed the time by a few minutes. Her hardest run/race so far, so bravo to her. Congrats to the other finishers and tried-to-be finishers. Thanks to the race directors and volunteers. Beaverhead is a well organized race on a brutal course. It’s much, much harder than you’d expect. I’ll be back, afterall, LoTR ends a trilogy with the Return of the King. Why shouldn’t Beaverhead?