IMTUF 2021

 The other day someone asked me how IMTUF went, and honestly I hadn’t really done much thinking about it other than reflecting on my strategy, so this question got me thinking and truly reflecting on this event. 

The last handful of years have been, hands down, the hardest of my life and that is not even pandemic related. Quite honestly, I chose to run IMTUF in 2020 because I wanted something to inspire me to get outside because my mood was so low I worried that I wouldn’t get out without a real big goal. Also having lived in McCall I knew the area is insanely gorgeous and being back there would lift my spirits. When IMTUF 2020 went sideways I knew that I needed to return in 2021. Same thought process, I still needed something to work towards and inspire me and I love McCall. 

After IMTUF 2020 I started to work with Coach Krissy. I had trained a lot for the 2020 event but it wasn’t very focused aside from a lot of distance and all that ultra shuffling made me slow. My main goal was to go to, and do well at, IMTUF 2021. Naturally I threw some curveballs at Krissy with scheduling and signed up for a few summer races kind of last minute. This all seemed to fit well into my training and before I knew it September was rolling around the corner and it was looking like IMTUF 2021 would be a go. The weather was forecasted to be cool and clear and amazingly some rain would take care of the smoke in the air right before race day.

A few days before the race Jason and I discussed splits, and I threw out a bunch of times for the different segments based solely off of distance between aid stations and elevation gain/loss. During this I didn’t really consider that these splits were part of a 100 mile race. Afterwards we tallied the hours up. 27 hours. “That is my best-case-scenario-the-wheels-don’t-fall-off optimistic time. I’m sorry but you may be waiting at aid stations for a while?” I really had no idea. The previous year I got nervous and went out SO SLOW. Seriously. I dropped at 75 miles in 2020 because of breathing issues with all the smoke but my body felt fine, so this year I figured I would go out conservatively while looking at this race as a series of smaller segments and running them however my body felt good moving. At halfway I would reevaluate, and again at 70-ish miles. Seemed simple enough. 

Early in the race I moved into a good position as to not get stuck behind people on Jug Mountain. I didn’t want to have to navigate around people moving slowly through boulders on the ridge so I pushed on the dirt roads of Jug Mountain Ranch to get ahead of the crowds. Passing over Jug was a treat with the sun rising and the inversion and low clouds. There we were, above the valley fog taking in the mountain views, incredibly grateful for the privilege and ability to be in that place at that time. I moved down off Jug, through the first aid station and then through the rolling hills en route to my crew at mile 20-ish, at exactly the time I had estimated several nights earlier. 

“Hey how are you feeling?” 

“Real good,” was my answer, “although maybe I was low in salt so I took some salt but then maybe I had too much so I drank a bunch of water. Whatever felt off momentarily resolved so I’m not too concerned about it.”

I took off from EFLF and guessed I would see my crew in about 2.5 hours. Again at the top of Fall Creek Saddle I felt off but I couldn’t place it. I ate food and nothing improved. Drank fluids… nothing. Things seemed to resolve themselves again as I neared the next aid station exactly when I predicted I’d arrive. My crew went wild. 30 miles down, feeling good, eating well. It felt like a dream. I switched out gear and grabbed my bigger running vest. It would be 26-ish miles until I’d see my crew again and I didn’t want to get benighted without a headlamp or a warm jacket. In 2020 night fell while I was on the Crestline. I had a headlamp but didn’t have layers and as the temps dropped down into the 30s I had some real time self-convos on how ridiculous I was… and then I shivered for hours.

The Crestline is undoubtedly one of the most spectacular places I have visited. Over the years I’ve done many miles in this area and never once have the rolling granite slabs, wildfire singed snags, alpine lakes and changing foliage disappointed. It is an area for me where my soul feels truly happy and at peace. As I moved through this section I was uplifted even more when getting to the backcountry aid station supplied by goats. It wasn’t until I was far out the Crestline that I realized that my issues earlier in the day were altitude related. When I would climb above 6500’ I’d feel a bit off, then it would improve as I descended. After realizing that I wasn’t concerned anymore and just kept moving forward. As I was nearing the N. Crestline Trailhead I kept waiting for dusk to fall, but surprisingly it was hours before dusk. I turned to get a last view of the Crestline before dropping down towards Pearl Creek. When would I get to be here again? Tough to say as it could be next year, a decade, or possibly never again. I took a moment to take in an area that I hold near to my heart, looking at peaks like old friends I’ll surely miss. I ended up arriving at the N. Crestline Trailhead 5 hours earlier than I had in 2020, and took off down the road with the sun high up in the bright blue sky. 

Dusk fell as I entered Terrible Terrence and I asked two women who were at the turn off for the trail if they’d heard anything about a cougar that day. Word was that a cougar was caught on a trail cam but those women hadn’t heard anything about it that day. I navigated Terrible Terrence on my own, eventually by headlamp and could have sworn that something was following me but that was probably just my imagination. 

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I arrived at Upper Payette Aid Station feeling amped up and ready to charge. Jason, Julia, Parker and the dogs cheered as I came in and helped me with staying warm, self care, and eating. Parker joined me as my first pacer and his upbeat style and enthusiasm got me even more pumped than I already was. Honestly things were going really well and I was eating well, feeling great and in a good position to make some moves. 

Parker and I encountered some real cool people on the 20 Mile Trail, which is really only 10 miles but whatever who is counting. The night was dark and we chatted about life. I told Parker stories of time on this trail and encouraged him to bring Julia (his wife) back to the area to ride 20 Mile Trail in the other direction. Spoiler alert, it’s real fun! We trotted into the Duck Lake TH Aid Station and I cheered out a big, heartfelt “WAHOO!” In return I got nothing. We quickly realized that the bulk of the runners were laying on the ground or in chairs, generally looking pretty beat up. I looked at Parker, “The energy here is real low, let’s get stuff and get out before the black hole steals our energy.” Parker agreed and we quickly chowed down on ramen and beat feet up the road to the pass. My energy was still running at an all time high and I tried my best to sing Shakira to Parker. Second spoiler, I am tone deaf and probably sounded like a dying cat. Can’t imagine why Parker didn’t recognize what I was singing to him. 

Theragun to the rescue

Beautifully we rolled into the Snowslide Aid Station 21 hours after leaving the start line. I had TONS of time as a buffer before the cutoffs and I was feeling beyond happy and good. “All I have to do now is run a 50K. Easy!” Sure I had a few sore spots, like my abs were a little tired but my Theragun worked its magic and I was ready to go. The climb from the TH to the summit is big and steep but it is over a mere 2 miles. Mango and I use to run up and down this trail in our youth and I know it like the back of my hand. Parker and I made great time up to the summit, passing a handful of others on the way up. We worked out way down the back side onto the Maki Trail which started out a bit steep and looser than the trails from earlier in the race. Somewhere on this downhill I stopped because I was suddenly having hip pain. Parker suggested stretching so I did that and was able to run again, briefly. The hip pain started back up again. After a discussion on this we decided we would walk for as long as needed, realistically we were walking at 13-16 minute mile pace and that isn’t terrible so I was not too concerned. I did see my “best-case-scenario-the-wheels-don’t-fall-off optimistic time” flying out the window but reminded myself how grateful I was to be there in that place, experiencing all of it. I was moving forward and even though it looked different than how I wanted it to look, I couldn’t really complain. At 3:00am Parker apologized for being low energy and quiet. “It’s ok, I’m not opposed to it and it kind of matches me right now.” Then I blurted out, “Damn it Parker, I’m usually at work at this time! What the hell is wrong with me? I hate being awake at 3:00am.” It was this statement that made me realize just how unsustainable the last four years of my life have been, more specifically the last two years working as an ICU nurse on night shift, during a pandemic. “Fuck this I’m quitting my job.”

If you’ve never been in the mountains when the air is cold and things have frosted over, I encourage you to do it at least once. Coming down through the meadows the light of our headlamps reflected off of newly frozen and frosted over foliage. The stars were out, the air was calm and cold, and the smell was the smell of things freezing which I can’t explain but you’ll know it when you smell it. Even though we were moving slowly and my dreams of doing well at this race were gone, I felt like I was moving through a dream. I reflected back on the miles I ran and biked here in my youth, when Mango was young and so many people I loved still were alive. It’s been a tough go since those days. 

It took us 3 hours to get to the EFLF Aid Station from the time my hip started to hurt. From here I was set to leave solo with the intention of picking up Jason at the last aid station. Given the cold temps and my new found injury Jason dropped his pants to reveal running shorts complete with a “pacer” bib. He proclaimed that he was going with me from East Fork Lake Fork. “YOU ARE!?” I explained that I couldn’t run and that it would be a long outing but that I was happy to have him along for the ride, or walk plus maybe logroll or crawl. 

We actually made good time up Boulder Peak which was relieving, but honestly my left buttcheek had seized up so dramatically that I literally couldn’t move my left foot beyond my right foot. What this created was me stepping farther than usual with my right leg and then stepping forward with my left leg to match my right. It was a John Wayne-esque mountain saunter. Jason happily took in the views. He hadn’t ever been in the high country of McCall and was in awe of all the granite peaks and awesome looking ski terrain. 

The rest of the way into the finish was pretty lack luster as I was quite literally slow strutting my way around, down, around, back up, down again, etc. the area near Jug Mountain. The uphills frustrated me because of my crappy walking gait but I pressed on often times encouraged by Jason. After what felt like too many miles and a detour through a muddy bog full of yellow jackets we got to the last aid station. Another racer asked an aid station volunteer how far it actually was to the finish. I jumped in, “Yeah! How far is it REALLY!?” 

Her response was, “You know, I can’t really tell you.” When pressed as to why she couldn’t tell us her answer was, “Well, you see, no one really knows!” 

                                                                                                                                               Will accept any ramen sponsorship

Oh my god, you have to be kidding me. It could be 6 miles or it could be 12 miles, we really had no idea and for the first time ever I suddenly worried that my slow-as-molasses walk may actually cause me to DNF because of time. I was once on track for a 28 hour finish and now I may DNF. Awesome. I hurried Jason out of the aid station and we continued on towards the finish. It wasn’t too many miles later that we saw a sign that read: FINISH 2 MILES. We were both excited by this and I thanked sweet baby Jesus for the fortune of not having a gazillion miles to go. About a half mile later there was another sign and it read: FINISH 2 MILES.

                                            

As you can imagine the finish line was not 2 miles later. We walked on and my tortured soul laughed at the audacity of hearing the finish line but feeling like we weren’t getting any closer. Some time later we encountered the photographer, Lyn, and she informed us that the finish was in fact just a half mile away up and over the hill. “Sure it is,” I said. She assured us it was but I just couldn’t believe her.

At sweet long last I crossed the finish line, 34 some odd hours after I had left it. I marveled that the first 74 miles took me 21 hours and the last 30 took me 13 hours. Jeez what an adventure. At the end of the race Jeremy and I chatted briefly and I thanked him, not only for that weekend and everything that he put into making it happen (again in a second Covid-19 year) but for having something that I found interesting enough to sign up for and work towards. Working towards this goal kept me grounded and gave me something to be hopeful for during a period of time when I was so blindsided, heartbroken and down. I hadn’t really processed any of the hard things from 2020 but I certainly had a lot of happy moments outside. Sure this didn’t go as I had hoped but I found a way, even when walking for 30 miles, to be grateful for the experience. I was grateful for my family and friends that helped me get there and the ones that helped me in McCall. I was grateful for my body for being able to deal with this amount of stress, for my life situation and determination that made it possible for me to prepare for this, for the volunteers that gave so much time to this, for the other runners that passed me in those last 30 miles that cheered me on, for the weather for being so gentle, for my patients that have shown me what true grit is, and for this place that always feels a bit like home. 

                                                         

For the record, I would like to also mention that on the drive home Jason chimed in, “You know what would make a 100 feel easy?” I stared at him blankly.  “200 miles,” he exclaimed! So if I go on some 200+ mile vision quest we can all blame Jason for the good/bad idea.