In 2018, I showed up to the IMTUF 100 with full knowledge that my poor level of training made a finish uncertain and I relied on guts to squeeze in under the 36 hour time limit with only 16 minutes to spare. From the beginning of that race, I was in awe of the beauty and the difficulty of the course and knew that I would have to come back to show the course the respect it deserved by preparing appropriately. I hoped this would translate to less pressure from cut-offs. I also had two specific rather unorthodox goals: 1) Get up the Snowslide climb without having to sit on a rock to catch my breath and 2) Get to Howie Stern's photo-op spots before he had packed up and left (Spoiler alert: he wasn't there).
2019 ended up being the year of plantar fasciitis, and so I did not return to IMTUF that year. In early 2020, I signed up for CTS coaching with IMTUF already on my calendar. My first call with my soon-to-be coach Stephanie Howe showcased her ability to think on her feet when I announced that instead of running 100 miles in September, I would be having a baby in October. She helped me stay active through pregnancy and given the pandemic, I entered 2021 planning to do my "backyard" 100, Grindstone. Then vaccines became widely available for adults and I realized I could return to the race that had my heart, the IMTUF 100. Even better, my best friend Jo Ann was coming to do it as her first 100. I was beginning to think that IMTUF would become "my race," the one I keep coming back to.
Training for IMTUF was punctuated with several weeks on service (2 in July) which allowed very little running and a non-COVID virus (also in July), but having Stephanie to guide my training helped me to be confident that these low volume weeks were not going to wreck my race. Jo Ann was in kick ass shape and I couldn't wait to see what she was going to do on the course, but unfortunately she got injured within 2 weeks of the start and had to sit it out.
Since I had last run IMTUF, the course had been replaced by a "Super Course" because of COVID-related closures, swapping out a couple more regular mountains for harder mountains including a mandatory-walk talus scramble (ie. walk so you don't die) and minimizing the amount of "easy" running. With this harder course, it was hard to predict whether my improved training would actually make finishing more assured. Working to my advantage was near perfect conditions with weather ranging from high 30s to low 70s and some rain the day before to clear the smoky skies.
Our kids are too young to be vaccinated so I traveled alone, but Stephanie had helped me find Erin Peterson, a salt of the earth soul who eeked in crewing a couple of aid stations for me and pacing the final section before and after sweeping a section of the race. Her eagerness to help a stranger is such a model of what is amazing about the sport of ultrarunning.
The Super Course starts with a a very gentle dirt road climb for several miles, and sunrise came just as we were above the clouds to see mountains above the clouds and trees below.
A sign directed us to turn left up "stupid hill" and then
we were climbing for real with absolutely amazing views, headed for the
peak of Jughandle Mountain.
Then it was time to descend and my thoughts soon shifted to, "Can I do the climb again instead?" and "I am never doing the Super Course again." I knew we would be scrambling on rocks but I wasn't prepared for just how technical it would be. I generally wanted 3-5 points of contact at all time (yep, I used my butt too) and I apologized to the 20-30 people who passed me over 1/4 mile. The first aid station came later than advertised (a general theme of IMTUF as the distances between aid stations may have been based on GPS estimates on a cloudy day). Still, it was on a beautiful lake and volunteers gave me a pancake.
I saw my crew at the 20-23 mile aid station (who knows the real distances). I knew I needed to stay on top of my feet since they were the limiting factor in 2018, but these were feeling good. I grabbed some potato chips and headed into a couple of runnable dirt/rock road miles leading up to the infamous Crestline section (hard for the old course, average for the Super Course). I was moving well and then choked a little bit on a running product I was eating, stimulated my gag reflex, and suddenly felt very nauseous. A few minutes later I was vomiting several times. Whoops. I gave myself 30 minutes to let the stomach settle and was settled in to the tough Falls Creek climb before I tried to eat again, spreading out my 100 calories over 10-15 minutes. Hooray, it stayed down!
It was great to see the Crestline section as this had fallen during miles 60-80 when I did the race before, so it was all dark. However, I did find myself thinking, "Now I've seen pretty much the whole course in the daylight, so I don't need to do this race again." The Crestline is beautiful, but also long, remote, and with lots of climbing. I started to note my feet rubbing and had a consult with Jer the RD himself at the South Crestline aid station about lube versus large band-aids and at his advice I reapplied some vasoline to my feet. Later, I found I had miscalculated the calories I would need for this section but Irene and her goats loaded me up with lots of PB&J tortillas and extra Gu.
My stomach was a little unsettled after this section and my feet were still rubbing. This was mild, but the race wasn't even halfway over and I knew I needed to address this quickly. So once I arrived at North Crestline Aid Station just after sunset, I took some time to let food settle and to reconsider my feet. I was carrying large band-aids Jer had given me as a back-up plan and I found a source of wisdom and experience (I never learned his name) at North Crestline who taped the bandaids to my feet and gave me the roll of tape so I could fix it again later. This was like magic as I was entering a very runnable, downhill, make-up-time section -- as long as your feet can handle the rocks.
My feet were fine and I overall moved well. However, my stomach did not like prolonged stents of running and I had some more vomiting at some point over the next few hours. This was frustrating since I was on relatively easier sections with legs that felt okay, but I went with what I had and walked more to help keep calories down. My go-to savory items at aid stations (chips, PB and J) were making things worse, so I was eating more sugary sports products and my stomach was ready to be done with those. It was so nice to brush my teeth at 4 AM (any 100 miler newbies reading this -- this is so key!) and my drop bag Starbucks frappuccino sat well on my stomach. I started up the Snowslide climb and had more goodies in my pack to eat on the way: finally some savory items that settled well, a pierogi and potatoes. The climb was tough, it was around mile 70 on the new course (previously around mile 50) and this year I was especially finding that I got very short of breath with any climbing at all beginning around 7000 ft of elevation. BUT, I think I achieved my goal. That is to say, I did sit on a rock briefly, but it was kind of an accident when I was turning around to try to see where the trail went in the dark. Those who have done the course will understand how the steepness can lend itself to "accidentally" sitting on a rock. When I got to the top, all the climbing on the balls of my feet had rearranged my foot taping, but my volunteer hero had stuck the tape in my pack so I could fix it on the trail to be able to run some chunks of the long descent from Snowslide as the sun rose.
I had been hoping I would be all the way past the Snowslide descent by sunrise, but since this was the last part of the course I hadn't yet seen in daylight, I could feel very comfortable with my decision to never do IMTUF again, except as crew/pacer. I wasn't having fun (turns out even training well doesn't make a super hard 100 pleasant) and it was helpful to cope with almost all the sections being long by reassuring myself that I would never have to do it again. I knew I was okay on cut-offs and didn't feel particularly motivated to push for some arbitrary time goal that I wouldn't be able to judge accurately because no one knows the real distances. So, while I was still moving, several people passed me in this section even though nothing was really wrong with me. I just didn't have the motivation to push a little bit harder to keep up with them.
Enter the penultimate section. This climb was very long, and higher than any other, which meant more time above my East Coast "I can't breathe" threshold. I think my fatigue may have translated to even less ability to capture the beauty with my camera (and let's admit it, also with my soul).
A couple miles after the summit, I was getting really good at hallucinating the aid station. It wasn't coming. Throughout IMTUF, the course is quite "creative," often not on a real trail but designed to show you something beautiful or do something epic. (This comes with markings that are truly a labor of love with a level of dedication I have never encountered from another RD). So given all of this, I am trying to give Jer the benefit of the doubt that there was some real reason for us to cut down the mountain on non-trail rough ground, wind down a dirt road, then cut back up the mountain on more non-trail, etc. But at the time, it seemed nuts.
I finally arrived at the last aid station, excited to begin the 6-7 mile descent to the finish with Erin as pacer. However, the aid station captain told me with confidence that it was actually 9.4 miles to the finish. Well, actually some runners were reporting 12 miles on their watches. With 3.5 hours left in the race, suddenly the cut-off was in play. We set out and instead of descending, we were going back up. We soon passed a sign that said 6.5 miles to the finish, but Erin told me I couldn't believe it. My watch was dead so I asked her to call out when we hit each mile so I could judge my pace. The first mile (including a climb but also some descent) was 24+ minutes. "That is not okay!!" I yelled. It was time to convert my ultra-shuffle to a jog. I'd argue I even got to a run (you know, the 10-11 min/mi kind of run). It actually felt okay but I wasn't 100% sure if I could sustain it for 8-11 miles. More signs came (4 miles to finish) and Erin checked her map. She decided the signs were probably accurate and it definitely wasn't 12 miles. I left myself walk some short hills. Then something wasn't right; I had pulled my quad in my over-exuberance to beat the cut-offs. So, it was back to ultra-shuffle on in to the finish. I crossed in 34:26 and got to pick a colored belt buckle as a 2nd time IMTUF finisher.
I then quickly spread the word that I was done with IMTUF. I asked Jer if the Super Course was here to stay and he said it likely was. Great, confirmation that I don't need to do this race again.
24 hours. Ha! I was already thinking about coming back as I drove away from the finish line. I still need my epic Howie Stern photo.
-Jordan
