IMTUF 100: Suffer in Splendor

I signed up for the IMTUF 100 as a special treat to myself, a first time “destination” race which looked spectacularly beautiful and would renew my Hard Rock qualification. I intended to be very well trained for this event, but work and travel left me with little time and I was only averaging 25-30 miles a week for the 2 months prior to the race. I knew this meant my likelihood of finishing would be diminished, but I still planned to have fun running in the mountains.

Nathan and I drove to Greenville so my parents could keep Fuller for the trip, then flew to Boise, and drove a beautiful 2 hours north to McCall where we would be staying. The race start/finish was another 50 minutes north at Burgdorf Hot Springs, which is remote enough that in the winter it is only accessible by snowmobile. The course is a 103ish mile mountainous loop between 6000-8000 feet high and with over 20,000 feet of elevation gain. It became clear at the pre-race meeting where many runners were wearing Hard Rock clothing: this race was in another league

The first 25 miles of the course were deceptively easy, with lots of smooth running and no significant climbs. I hit a stretch of flowing downhill single track with 360 degree mountain views at sunrise and couldn’t help giggling with delight. There is an out and back to a picturesque lake which runners gush over in clockwise years (my direction) and which irritates runners in counterclockwise years. I knew there were more challenging sections to come and when I came into the Chinook aid station at mile 16.7 and a volunteer remarked that there were only 23 runners left to come through, I was encouraged that I was being sufficiently conservative.

Runable beginning of race

Loon Lake

I did struggle with a headache starting about 2-3 hours into the race, which I guessed was related to altitude since I was well hydrated. This worsened on the first major climb up Diamond Ridge and I ran out of water shortly before coming to the unmanned water station, which was out of water. Everyone filled up from a stream which was hopefully free of diarrheal illnesses. Eventually, I reached my first drop bag at mile 33 and was able to knock back my now 7 hour headache with some Advil. The RD had warned that the next section could be hot, so I changed out of my long sleeves and ¾ tights in short sleeves and shorts. 

Sampling of more moderately technical trail offered

 

Views like this were throughout the course

Instead of heat, clouds rolled in and it started to rain as temperatures dropped. My windbreaker was enough to keep my body warm but soon my gloves were soaked through and I became worried that the rain wouldn't stop and my lack of waterproof gloves would make it unsafe to run through the night. But it did stop after 2 hours and I was soon cheerfully singing “Here Comes the Sun” while bringing my hands back to life at the 42 mile Duck Creek aid station fire.

I was euphoric as I left the aid station. The only 2 issues I had had so far (headache and cold) had been reversible, my legs felt relatively fresh, I was 30-45 minutes ahead of the 34:30 pace chart I had made for myself, and Nathan would join me as pacer at the next aid station, Snowslide, where pulled pork sliders also awaited. The section before Snowslide was the easiest in the race, a hike up a gentle grade on a dirt road for a couple miles and then a cruise back down. If I had realized there were no more good moods to come for the rest of the race, I would have savored the moment a bit more.

Feeling good at Snowslide Aid. Photo by Danielle Zemola

I ate my pulled pork slider as Nathan and I started up the Snowslide climb, the steepest, most technical ascent of the course. My good mood vanished and I developed what I am calling “bottomless pit syndrome.” I had been eating well throughout the day but was suddenly insatiable and essentially spent the next 4 hours bonking despite eating a TON, sometimes as much as 100 calories every 10 minutes. The unmanned water station here was also out of water, so Nathan’s first section with me was 13 miles unsupported with an irritable bonking runner. I spent 25 minutes at the mile 59 Lake Fork aid station eating pizza because I knew my troubles had to be sorted out before heading into the Crestline section, the most difficult section of the race.

Snowslide

We started the Crestline section a little before midnight, and I was hit with sleepiness like I have never experienced before. After a couple miles of dirt road, we started another steep technical climb, and I all I could think about was sleep. I was barely awake while hiking and sat on a rock intending to take a quick nap. It was at this point that Nathan and I had a heart to heart. The Crestline aid stations were all remote and packed in, so it was a 21 mile section where there is no mechanism to drop. There were several climbs, technical trails, and the most sustained higher altitude of the race, all through the middle of the night. It might be safer to turn around and go back to the previous aid station to drop.

Quitting at this point would have violated 3 of my rules: 1) Fatigue is not a valid reason, 2) No dropping because you expect to miss a cut-off; let them pull you from the course after you DO miss a cut-off, 3) No decisions about dropping may be made while going uphill. The safety concerns made it still a conversation worth having, but ultimately we pressed on with a possibility of a nap at the next aid station. Instead of a nap, I had some instant coffee which woke me up and saved my race. Perhaps the coffee was to blame for the bout of vomiting that hit me in the next section, but that was short lived and didn't slow me down much at all. We finished the Crestline section with an hour cushion on the cut-offs.

Obligatory pic with the goats who kindly packed in my aid

We then got to descend back to 6000 feet, though the “road” that achieved much of this was really a rock garden that was very uncomfortable to run on. My feet were in need of attention because the “moon dust” had infiltrated and was rubbing painfully on the balls of my feet, but I made a costly math error as we were coming in to the mile 88.8 aid station. Adding up my predicted paces for the remaining sections which didn't allow for time spent in aid stations, we would need to make up 20-30 minutes over the next 6 hours. There was no time to work on my feet; I just had to suffer through it.

I realized as we started on the next section that I had miscalculated and we had an hour more than I thought. I stopped a couple times to shake out shoes and change socks but it didn't help. The final climb was a steep 1000 feet leading to the mile 94.2 aid station, with 3.8 miles of slow ascent and another 1000 ft up to the final 98.1 mile aid station. We left 94.2 with a healthy cushion on the cut-off, which was fortunate because every step I took at this point was excruciating, especially when I ran. I thought my hiking pace was reasonable, but it was over 2 hours before we reached the final aid station. I was expecting 4.8 miles of easy descent to the finish, but the volunteers told us it was actually 5.5 miles and the first 4 miles were technical singletrack. We had 1 hour 40 minutes to get there.

As we left, I told Nathan, “I don’t know if I'm going to be able to make it, but I will try.” This was code for, “If you try to push me, I will snap at you,” and he got it. This poor man had an irritable runner for the majority of 55 miles and 23 hours. I insisted on stopping one more time to see if I could improve my foot situation; I wasn't sure if I could run on them at all. I wasted 5 minutes and couldn't help anything. I started running where I could (the rocks were too numerous in some places) and let loose foul language as a coping mechanism for the pain. Then, oh sweet moment, we reached the dirt road to the finish: 1.3 miles and 35 minutes to do it in. Nathan started whooping and I enjoyed the luxury of getting to take some walking breaks. I finished in 35:43:54 to add my hardest fought for belt buckle to my collection.

Finished! Photo by Danielle Zemola

The stress and intensity of racing cut-offs was new to me, and we were in that mode for 18 hours. I'm so grateful that Nathan knew me well enough to know what I needed when I was in danger of DNF (less is more). I have more pride in this belt buckle than any others.

The buckle has a bottle opener

IMTUF was an incredible race with RDs who marked the course expertly and a community who came together to pack in aid stations to remote locations. I was fairly miserable for the majority of the race, and I'd like to come back and do it again sometime when I am adequately trained so I can better enjoy and appreciate it. But first, I need to heal my feet so I can pace Nathan at Grindstone in 3 weeks!

-Jordan