One goat, two goat, red goat, Speedgoat. The 50k that broke and healed me.

Speedoat? 

It wasn't as fast as the name implies, it took more endurance than anything else, but I was eventually speed-goaded into signing up for the Speedgoat 50k. One thing I wouldn't do though is to take the endeavor very seriously. Because. Reasons. Would budget mountain ultra training work? Do we even need to ask?

Per article,

The inaugural Speedgoat took place in 2007. (Karl) Meltzer was bartending at Snowbird when the resort’s special events director, John Collins, pulled him aside in January and gave him a challenge. Could Meltzer found a running race that would draw at least 100 participants its first year?

Meltzer’s answer? No problem.

The gateway to Wasatch range

Being a crowned veteran of my share of sky ultras, I didn't give the course much thought. Sure, it bills itself as the country's toughest 50k, but I also call myself an ultra-idiot. Both are hyperbole and a half. Or are they?

What is budget mountain ultra training, you may be wondering. Well it doesn't matter cuz I'm gonna tell you anyway and you're gonna read it because you're probably on the toilet and what else are you going to do? My weekly running mileage this year has only been hovering around 20 miles - pathetic. At least half of that is walk-jogging with an increasingly lazy and intransigent chihuahua. I found some "joy" in finding tough climbs tho, so what's a little distance? I ran three specific training runs, each up a summit, around 14-20 miles, with 5 to 6 thousand feet of climbing. So, three runs and my base of awesomeness. Should fly.

The goat does not care

A month before, I made non-refundable travel plans. Because. Reasons? Now, though? I’m going through some personal stuff and shit and really really did not feel like going off to do a race. Really. Between the thousand dollars of committed spend and the need to carry on, I came out anyway. Also, it would be a chance to see some other people, though my main partner in Speedgoading had a cancelled flight and stayed home. Alonegoat it is.

Early downhill section

We all knew the climbs were coming

Good to know we're going in the right direction

Straight up the snow

The race starts surprisingly with some fast downhills. And you know the ultra mantra - what goes down must climb back up. Knowing that we had to climb to summit, each step of downhill was enjoyed knowing that it would have to be paid back later. Most of the first three hours to summit was kind of a blur. A lot of stiff fire road climbs, not as much single track as I’d expected, lots of dust, and a modestly steep snow ascent. Most of the climbing was better than 10% but not much egregious over 20-25% or so, I think. The alpine views from the summit at mile 10 are breathtaking not just because it’s so beautiful but also because we were at 11,000 ft altitude. Couldn’t wait to get down the other side.

The backside of Mineral Basin

And this is where the problems began. They told us this would be an 8 mile stretch and we should carry a liter of water. Understatement and a half. The downhills were half runnable but half too technical and risky, especially as I’ve been prone to twisting my ankle lately. By the time we got to the valley at mile 14, midday temps were around 100F. While the downhill was on, through or along a creek, the uphill from here on was bone dry. Some people were already out of water and I was down to one bottle. The climb was steady and steep but, worse, was hotter than Hades. The breeze, when it blew, was just out of reach in the trees. Funny thing about being dehydrated, you can't eat either, so shut up, stomach. I'll deal with you later. Somehow, we reached the water station at mile 18 without any casualties that I knew of, though Hawaiian shirt guy, for one, was borderline heat exhasuted. While many of us wanted to drop here, it would be another 1.4 miles of climbing and descending to the next aid station before we could. 45 minutes, while my climbing speed was 30 min/mi. It would be uncomfortably close. 

I caught up to a runner recuperating just a few hundred yards from the aid station. I tried to speedgoad him to the station. He said he was planning on dropping. I said we could at least make the cutoff by a few minutes even if we drop. I made it by 5 minutes and hurried to continue on with 2 minutes to spare. 

You know, often in ultras, you feel like you must be DFL but there's always someone behind you. In this case, it was true, if only for a moment. One female runner, the last to leave that aid station, would soon pass me but not until we passed Kaushik and soon passed another dude who I gave some water to on the previous section. One smart guy even changed his mind decided to return. So I wasn't quite DFL but close. 2.5 miles in 1H45 is what I had to do. Seems generous.

Baldy climb sufferfest

Until you see the hills we had to climb. Finally something steep befitting my IQ (incline quixotic) score. This little hill, aka the Baldy climb, alone would take 30 minutes, covering +700 ft in 0.33 miles. While my training overall was lacking, hills like this were par for the course, pun intended, and I gained significant time on our remaining stragglers.

Not always over mountains, sometimes through them

I took a fatalistic approach to the race. And I only learned the distances and cutoffs one segment at a time. I didn't track the cutoff time so as I summited and approached the downhill section to the mile 22 aid station, I had no idea what my buffer was, if any.

I heard on the trail that once one makes the mile 22 cutoff, finishing was fait accompli. I felt good on the downhill and that was primarily what was left of the course, save for one little 1500 ft climb. But 'twas not to be. There was no light at the end of the tunnel. I missed the cutoff by just 8 minutes. I wasn't DFL. That person was a half mile ahead of me. 

Taking the chair down

Chatted with some runners who just missed the cutoff and took the ski chair back. Man, that was a long way down. Hard to believe we climbed that in the morning. Also bumped into Heather Brooks at the finish. She's part of an elite Montana running crew that I somehow got connected with. We talked through both our personal shit that kept us from wanting to be here but also why it was good that we were. Are the mountains healing? I don't know. But better to be broken (more) on the outside than in. And in that regard, DNF or not, mission accomplished.