Zane Grey 2015

For those of you that know me, most are probably aware of last years theme when it came to race day weather; shitty.

Zane Grey was one of those races that was affected by weather. A blizzard crashed the party and the race was called at 33 miles..

For some reason people started blaming the poor weather on me because I was always there. I've been called a curse or bad luck. Like I control the weather or something.. Crazy. Just plain crazy.

So when I decided to jump into Zane Grey about a month prior to race day, the hecklers came out swinging!

"Oh, great. Sion's doing the race now, better pack your rain gear!!"

or

"I'm gonna lock you in the trunk of a car if the weather is bad."

C'mon!

But the curse was over. If it was ever an actual curse. Three races in the book thus far, all free from torrential rainstorms or freak blizzards. Old Pueblo had the best weather in the four years that I've run it. We can all move on. Curse over.

Then it happened. Five days to the race. Just a nonchalant glance at the Facebook feed was enough to send me into a state of shock and disbelief. The weather reports for Zane Grey were now predicting RAIN.

"This has to be some kind of cruel joke.." I thought to myself.

But after checking a few different sources, it was confirmed. It was indeed supposed to rain.

"Maybe... Maybe I am cursed." I said in a laugh peppered with sadness.

I clung on to the hope that it would be cloudy and cool, but that the rain would hold off. At least until I finish the race..

"I've been punished enough. Give me a pass!" I exclaimed while shaking my fist in the air!!

For those unfamiliar with the Zane Grey 50, it's not for the faint of heart. The course runs 51 miles along the Highline Trail from Pine to Christopher Creek. Rocks upon rocks blanket the trail, forcing all attention to be paid, or you pay.

It's been described as one of the hardest 50 milers in North America. It's slogan is percolating; "The toughest, roughest, most beautiful 50 mile trail run in the country."

I am drawn to challenges. I want to be tested. I crave the agony. I daydream about gasping for breath on the steepest of climbs. I was once completely lost, now I get lost to feel complete.

I trained my ass off for this wonderful punishment. I was ready, rain or shine. I figured if I ran a smart race, I could finish under 10 hours.. I was hoping to go under 9:30.

On a cloudy Friday afternoon, Kristi and I stuffed our car like a Thanksgiving turkey and made a beeline on the Beeline for Payson.

We arrived in Payson around six and were greeted by cool and cloudy conditions.

"If it's like this tomorrow, that would be spectacular.." I thought.

After picking up my bib and a quick stop for dinner with some friends, Kristi and I settled into our hotel room for the night.

I managed to get a few winks of sleep and morning arrived right on time. We got ourselves in order, I choked down my mandatory bowl of oatmeal and off we went.

We arrived at the Pine Trailhead with about a half hour to spare. The conditions were perfect. It was cloudy and cool. No rain to speak of. A touch of moisture in the air. I breathed in the freshness. I thought about the adventure that awaits.

I am so fortunate that I get to do this stuff. People think it's "insane" that I enjoy spending all day running in the mountains. I think it's insane to not see the freedom in it!

I've been a prisoner within myself. I've locked myself in a decrepit apartment for days wishing for an escape. Fearing the outside. Hoping for an intervention.

I've had my intervention. I've made my escape.

Time quickly evaporated and a group of like-minded adventurers lined up for the start. I said bye to Kristi and made my way to the front.

I was fully aware that there would be a large group that would take off at a completely unreasonable pace. While a few would probably be able to hang onto the pace, the majority would not. I am finally beginning to understand how I must run my races. I need to let the lead pack go. It has been one of the hardest things to teach myself.

"Let 'em go.." I mumbled under my breath.

The countdown ensued and off we went!!

I assumed several runners would bolt off, but I didn't expect over twenty runners to imitate the start of a 5k..

"Damn, that's a little over ambitious.." I thought.

But I remained disciplined.

"You'll see 'em later on, Sion.." I told myself.

The race starts out with a substantial climb. I eased into my run, hiking a few of the steeper parts. A few more runners passed by me, their breathing already labored.

I crested the initial climb and the sun poked underneath a thick blanket of clouds on the horizon. The view was magnificent. I felt really loose and shockingly relaxed.

After several detours to water the shrubs, I figured I was in around 25th place. As much as I wanted to freak out about that, I reminded myself that I had 45 miles to catch up!

"Just run your race and they'll come back to you."

Eight miles into the race I reached the Camp Geronimo aid station with a few other runners. I didn't need anything, so I didn't skip a beat. I cruised up some switchbacks and began to catch up with another runner.

I followed the other runner up an extremely steep section when all of a sudden I realized he was leading me off course. I did the same thing at Black Canyon and lost about 30 minutes in the process! This time I realized it right away.

"Hey, you're going the wrong way!!" I yelled to him.

"Oh.. I just wanted to do this climb!" He cynically responded.

We both got back on course and I began to pull away from him. I eventually caught up with another runner who had an interesting sense of style. He was wearing Luna Sandals and a half shirt.

"Bringing back the 80's with the half shirt!" I jokingly quipped.

"It's all I could find." He responded with what was un-mistakingly seriousness.

"Alright.." I mumbled.

Not sure if it was the awkward conversation, but I got energized and pulled away from him.

"That was interesting.."

I soon caught up with another runner. He seemed to be running a good pace and I settled in behind him. We cruised together, talking about the race and what position we were in. What our goals were and how we got into ultra running. He introduced himself as Jesse Scott.

Jesse and I clicked off several miles together before I let him pull away. The pace had become a bit strenuous and I felt like it was beginning to feel forced. I took a quick breather and sucked down a Honey Stinger gel.

"Run your race." I reminded myself.

I soon neared the Washington Park aid station at 17 miles. I was excited to see Kristi and was in need of a mental boost. Last year, I was already losing feeling in all my extremities by the time I made it to Washington Park. Fortunately, the weather had remained perfect on this day.

I came rumbling into the aid station feeling quite optimistic. Kristi and Dallas helped me get refueled and I was on my way. Those brief moments can really give you a shot of adrenaline!

Washington Park ~17 miles

I felt really good as I climbed out of Washington Park. I soon caught back up with Jesse and eventually passed him. The trail constantly changes. The next section was filled with tall grass, making it impossible to see where your feet are actually landing.

I saw a runner ahead of me looking like he was struggling with the grassy trail.

"Hey, man. How are you doing?" I asked.

He completely ignored me.

I guess I'll try again!

"Twenty miles into the race, How do you feel?" I asked.

"Umm, I am really hungry.." He said in a voice void of emotion.

"Ya know, so am I.." I added.

And I was. I had an insatiable appetite and this guy just made me fully aware of it. I was constantly eating but nothing was making a dent in my hunger pains.

"I shouldn't have asked. Now I realize how hungry I am!!"

I quickly pulled away and spent the next few miles running solo. The views were astounding and the trail relentless. Up and down. Rocks. Grass. Logs. Rocks. And Rocks.

Overall, I felt solid. My attitude remained positive and I enjoyed the scenery and surroundings. I soon made it to the Hell's Gate Canyon aid station at 23.5 miles. Another runner was on his way out as I arrived.

"How's everyone doing!?" I shouted.

I felt good. I was chipping away. Slowly but surely. I refueled, chomped on a pretzel or two and took off.

There was a nice steep climb out of Hell's Gate. I power hiked all of it and topped out. I stopped to soak in the scenery. I was breathing hard, so I allowed myself to catch my breath.

I hit 25 miles at 4:45.

"There is no way I'm going under 10 hours.." I sadly thought. "I would need an almost even split to achieve that.. That's not gonna happen."

I shook myself out of the disappointment and refocused on the race. I caught up with the runner I had seen at Hell's Gate and we cruised together for the next couple miles. I got to meet Andy Pearson, a solid runner from California. We both agreed that the weather was absolutely perfect and that the course was challenging and breathtaking.

I let Andy lead the way for awhile, but eventually felt the urge to pull away.

"Hey, I'm going to push it a little bit." I said as I passed by him.

"That's cool. Go ahead." He replied.

"I'll probably see you in a few minutes!" I shouted as I put the gas pedal down.

While I hoped I wasn't going to see him, I knew there was a chance I was making a mistake. This was that point in the race that I had to take a chance. I had to take a risk. It was time.

My pace picked up and I was willing to see what I was capable of. I passed another runner or two before making it to the Fish Hatchery aid station at 33 miles. This is where the race was called last year. I was excited to see the rest of the course!

Fish Hatchery ~33 miles

Kristi helped me get loaded up and on track and I was quickly on my way. The next stretch was crucial. It would be over eleven miles to the next aid station. I knew it was important to push the pain aside and remember that I train for this. This next stretch would define my race.

I was warned about the climb coming out of Fish Hatchery. I kept waiting for it, but it was pretty much more of the same. I passed another runner. Then another one. I was in cruise control.

Soon a familiar face appeared coming in my direction. It was fellow Tucson Trail Runner, Bob Bachani!

"That's what I'm taking about!" Bob screamed at me.

"Hey, man! Good to see you!" I yelled back.

"Nate's about a minute ahead of you, you're doing great!" He informed me.

"Thanks!" On I went.

I'm not sure if he was just trying to give me a boost, telling me that Nate (Polaske) was a minute ahead. Or was he really just a minute ahead? Either way, I put the hammer down trying to catch my Aravaipa Racing teammate!!

I passed another runner on what was probably the most grueling climb of the entire race. He looked shot, like he could hardly move.

"Nice climb, isn't it?.." I said as I moved ahead of him.

All I got in response was a grunt.

He looked like hell. I was feeling more and more energized.

A few guys working communications were up ahead at a split in the trail.

"Five miles to aid." One of them said pointing me in the right direction. "How do you feel?"

"Time of my life!" I shouted.

Five more miles to aid seemed like an eternity. This was going to be a long grind. I knew if I could get to the last aid station at 44 miles, I would be almost done. So I pushed the pain deeper inside of me. The nagging voice telling me to stop, to take a break, kept barking in my ear.

I maintained my pace. No sign of Nate.

"Dang, it would have been nice to catch him.." I muttered.

Pretty soon someone running toward me yelled "One mile to the aid station, all smooth downhill from here!"

That shook me out of my lethargy and I picked up my pace. I knew that I was getting toward the end of the race and that I was going to finish strong.

I cruised down the rest of the descent and made it to See Canyon aid station at 44 miles.

See Canyon ~44 miles

"How are you doing?" Kristi asked.

"I'm ready to be done.." I said.

And I was. I was gassed. I hadn't paid much attention to my time since the halfway mark, but realized I was only a little over 8 hours in and only had six or seven miles to go.. I could go under 10! As I became enveloped in this moment of clarity, I heard cheering for another runner coming. I looked up and sure enough, another runner was barreling down the trail toward the aid station.

"Okay, babe. Gotta go.." Kristi said while nudging me.

I listened and took off for the homestretch!!

I didn't want to be passed. Hell, I hadn't been passed all damn day. I dug deep and found some spirit inside of me.

All of a sudden I noticed another runner ahead, struggling up the steep. I recognized this guy. It was my local training buddy and good friend, Charlie Ware! I quickly caught up.

"Hey, man!" I shouted.

"Hey.." He replied.

"How's it going?" I asked.

"I'm gonna finish." He reassured me.

"Brutal, isn't it?" I quipped as I pulled ahead. "Keep it up!"

On I went. If I didn't say that gave me an added boost, I would be lying. Charlie and I train together. We are both very competitive and have battled several times in races. Of course it gave me a boost!!

The last few miles were a blur. I was running a faster pace than I had ran the entire day. I turned a corner and I saw the finish.

I bolted full speed ahead through the finish line! I looked up at the timer and realized I had gone under 9:30!!

I gave Kristi a long hug. I had done exactly what I set out to do and had ran a negative split on a really tough course to do it. I finished in 9:23:44, good for 8th place.

The moment I finished the race, the rain began to fall. It was as if I got that pass I so desperately wanted! Apparently, it got pretty soggy out there.. Sorry guys!

I feel like I am just beginning to understand what I am capable of. I haven't been passed by a runner in the last two races I've ran. Only once in the last three. I must say, it's far more entertaining to pass the carnage, than to be the carnage!!

I loved the course and plan to return next year with a goal time of under 9 hours.

I want to thank Aravaipa Running, Pearl Izumi, Ultraspire, Honey Stinger and Feetures! for the support! And Kristi for crewing and helping me live out my dream!

Big congrats to our Tucson runners that represented! I would like to personally name all of you, but I would also like to stop writing.. You know who you are!!

Until next time...

Finish line festivities with my homeboys!
Nate Polaske (6th place) and Charlie Ware (10th place)

                                  ~ All photographs courtesy of Kristina McCauley

Black Canyon 100K

When I began laying out my racing schedule for 2015, one race was clearly calling my name; The Black Canyon 100K.

The Black Canyon 100K is a point to point race that runs from Spring Valley to New River, AZ. Point to point races are far more intriguing than loop courses. I mean, you aren't going to end up where you began. Instead, you are going to end up in a place far, far away. It's exciting!

In addition to my excitement about the course, Black Canyon is part of the Montrail Ultra Cup, meaning the top 2 female and top 2 male finishers would automatically qualify for entry into the prestigious Western States 100. This race was going to bring some talent.

While aware that the chances of me punching a ticket to Western were nearly impossible, I was excited to test my skills on the national level, against some of the best. My two attempts at running the 100 mile distance were both hampered by some unfortunate circumstances, so this would also be my furthest race to date.

As race day drew closer, the prediction for the weather grew increasingly more interesting. This wouldn't be the kind of interesting that plagued my races last year. Nope. In typical Arizona fashion, this race was going to be a scorcher!!

Training wise everything went smoothly. Kristi and I managed to find a neat (creepy) lodge right outside of Mayer, located just minutes from the start. We managed to catch a few hours of sleep in what was surprisingly the quietest room on the face of the planet. Strangely, staying in a desolate lodge in the middle of nowhere on Friday the 13th isn't all that scary..

Raceday morning quickly arrived and I fumbled to get myself put together. As I walked down a flight of stairs, I realized that my right achilles was really tender.

"Whaaat??" I said under my breath.

I put some pressure on the ball of my foot and lifted myself up.

"Ow." I said. This time not under my breath.

My achilles was in pain. How could this be? I tapered very carefully. Had I tapered too carefully? I tried to ignore it and chose not to mention it to Kristi either. I knew it wasn't bad enough to keep me from running, so why feed it any energy.

We arrived at Mayer High School, where I picked up my bib and did the usual pre-race mingle. The wind whipped around fiercely sending shivers down my spine. I soaked in the coolness as I thought ahead at what was to come.

What was to come, wouldn't disappoint.

More than a hundred runners all lined up. Jamil went over some course instructions, which can be summed up to; Head down the road, get on the trail and head towards Phoenix..

I gave Kristi a hug and whispered "See you on the other side.."

The amount of talent standing at the front of the pack was a little intimidating. I said a few encouraging words to myself as the countdown dwindled down. The race was underway!!

I had a plan going into this race and I was going to follow it. For God sakes, I was going to follow my plan! I watched the lead pack quickly pull away. I started to run faster and began to gain on them. Then I pulled back.

"Follow your game plan." I reminded myself as a few other runners cruised ahead.

I settled into a nice pace and enjoyed the freshness of morning. I watched the sunrise paint the desert with a golden glow. I galloped upon a few other runners and the four of us ran together for the next several miles.

Antelope Mesa aid station was just a blur as I cruised right through. My achilles was tender but I was certain in wasn't going to be a major issue. It was just going to be painful and like Scott Jurek would say, "pain only hurts."

It was beginning to warm up as I left Hidden Mine AS with a couple other runners. I was really relaxed and focused on taking in salt and electrolytes, knowing that the heat was getting ready to wail on all of us.

One of the guys I met was Jacob Singleton. Jacob cruised effortlessly and I could tell he was feeling good. At just under 20 miles, the three of us rolled into Bumble Bee AS. We all ferociously stuffed various food items in our mouth. I looked up and saw Jacob fly off into the distance as I quickly gave chase.

I kept Jacob in view for a mile or so before I convinced myself to get back to running my race. A wise friend gave me some advice and it was ringing through my head; "Only you can effect your race."

I suffered through a rough patch for the next few miles and began doubting weather I could finish the race. I began thinking about an interview that Sage Canaday did following his recent win at The North Face Endurance Challenge. He described reminding himself during low points, that he chooses to run.

No one is making me do this. I do this because I love to run. I got a little spirit back.

I made my way to Gloria Mine AS, along with a couple other runners slightly ahead. I grabbed a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and took off.

As I zigzagged up the switchbacks, I looked back towards the aid station. Neither of the other runners were following behind. If I said that it doesn't make me feel good when I start to pick off runners, I would be lying. It gave me a boost and I fell into a very nice groove.

The sun began to beat down with a little more enthusiasm, so the first creek crossing was a welcoming sight. I could see another runner enjoying the gift of mother nature as I approached. I quickly realized that this wasn't just another runner, it was Hal frickin-Koerner.

I filled my handheld with the stream water and poured it over my head. The cool water was invigorating. I filled it up again and twisted the lid on. I started up the switchbacks and passed Hal. I introduced myself to him and we talked briefly. He wasn't feeling very good and looked to be struggling a little. I wished him luck and was on my way.

I got a nice burst of energy as I made some separation from Hal. It was obvious that my choice to wear my pack was a smart move. I was sucking down water, taking in salt and chomping on Honey Stinger chews. I had my handheld filled with cool creek water that I was using to cool myself down with.

I was in high spirits as I trotted into Soap Creek AS.

I joked around with the volunteers a bit, feeling very relaxed. I was in a good place. I wasted very little time and was on my way.

The Black Canyon Trail is rugged. It goes up and down. It has rocks. Lots of them. Shade, not so much. The heat was increasing and the trail was beginning to beat me up. I, again, reminded myself that this is what I train for. I passed a couple more runners and got a needed boost.

There is a small out and back section as you make your way into Black Canyon City. The women leader, Caroline Boller, flew by me as she headed back out with my Aravaipa Racing Teammate, Kristina Pham on pacing duties. Then came Jacob Singleton, still looking solid as gold.

A bearded runner named Taylor Spike, whom I would get to know better, was also on his way out as I arrived at the aid station.

I joked around a bit with Deron Ruse and refueled. Michele Yates was being tended to after taking a pretty bad fall. The two of us left the aid station at the same time but it was clear that she was in pain. I wished her well and pulled away.

I quickly caught up with Taylor. We shared a few words and I passed on by. The next few miles were a steady grind. It was blazing hot and if felt like the trail was always going uphill. I have been doing a ton of vertical training and my legs felt surprisingly strong. Then, not so much.

In the blink of an eye, I felt like I was hit by a train. The heat began to wear on me and I became nauseous. I tried to throw up, but only dry-heaved. I sat down and moaned.

"Dig deep" I told myself. "You gotta dig deep."

I picked myself up off the ground and began to run. I wanted to stop, but I repeated the "dig deep" mantra and kept on going. The stretch from Black Canyon City to Cottonwood Gulch was long and dreadful. I scampered into the aid station, overheated and doubtful.

"How are you feeling?" one of the volunteers asked.

"It's so hot.." I said while haplessly holding myself up.

"You want to take a seat there in the shade for a minute?" she said, pointing to a couple of chairs sitting underneath a tent.

I looked over at the chairs. They were blanketed in shade. They looked so inviting, as if they had a pair of glowing halos hovering over them.

"No, I can't. If I do, I will never get up.." I sadly admitted.

I stuffed a handful of ice in my hat and set off, back into the inferno.

I was able to keep a consistent pace despite the vile feeling and soon it passed. I hit 50 miles and was optimistic about my race. I was still hanging onto a nice pace and had some energy stores left in the bank.

"This could be a damn good day!" I told myself.

At 51 and a half miles, I rolled into Table Mesa AS. My stomach was a bit queasy, so I popped a couple tums. Overall, I was in a good place. There was a light at the end of the tunnel. I could finish this thing off. I would finish this thing off.

I saw Deron again. I walked over and exclaimed, "I cannot wait for this to be over!"

It was all good. It would be over soon! I took off at a nice clip, the tums worked their magic and my stomach felt settled. I was ready for the last ten mile grind.

Soon after my excitement for the final stretch came, I approached one of the 50k runners. She was hiking up a steep section of jeep road. I did my best at being encouraging.

"Good job.." I said as I passed by.

"I'm just not used to this heat.." she responded, sounding completely deflated.

"At least we have a little cloud cover" I said while pointing out a thin layer of something trying to impersonate an actual cloud. On I went.

I soon hit a fork in the road.

There were no markings in either direction. The fork to the right looked wrong, but so did the fork to the left. I made the determination that going left seemed less wrong being that it went straight up a steep hill. That would make sense!

I trekked up the hill scanning every direction for a course marking. There in the distance, I saw an orange marking! Relieved, I got a burst of energy and charged up the remainder of the hill. I topped out and looked into the distance.

I saw NO MARKINGS. I noticed a camper, some ATV's and several people at the bottom of the hill in the distance. I made another wise decision. I went rumbling down the hill, of course!!

As I got closer, I could see a marking on a fence post.

"There it is!" I thought.

As I looked further ahead, I could see that there were red flags on EVERY fence post as far as the eye could see!

"Oh shit.." I cried. I knew I was in trouble.

"Hey, you guys see any other runners coming this way??" I asked a group of guys standing there.

"No.. What runners?" one said.

"I seen somethin' over there" another one of them said, pointing to a speck in the distance. I looked and to my surprise, Table Mesa AS was remarkably visible in the far distance.

"No... Not that.. This isn't good." I said under my breath.

I turned around and went charging back up the steep road. Soon I met back up with the other runner, who was coming the same way.

"This is the wrong way. Have you seen any markings?" I asked.

She shook her head.

"Dammit, this is going to destroy my race!!" I cried.

Realizing that I missed a turn and that my race was in peril, I wasted no time chatting. The adrenaline was coursing through my veins. I was running a completely unreasonable pace as I went flying back down the hill. I came across the marking I had seen before, but I now realized that it was just an old yellow piece of flagging. It was tattered and worn out, like it had been hanging on that branch for years.

"Oh my God, you have to be kidding me.."

I made it back to the fork in the road. My heart was beating out of my chest. I made one last act of brilliance and headed down the other unmarked direction.

I ran and ran, in full panic, looking for a orange flag. But there were none here. Not a one. Nothing. I turned back around and headed toward the jeep road.

"This is awful.." I felt completely defeated.

I got back on the road and began backtracking. I eventually saw a trail cutting up the mountain off of the road. It was marked.

I am not sure where everything went wrong. I am not sure if I followed the other runner or if she followed me. The one thing that I did know was that I had lost at least 30 minutes, ran a couple extra miles and wasted a ton of precious energy in the process. And conveniently, there was a nice grinding climb waiting for me as soon as I got back on course!

I figured at least one person passed me during the detour and I had some work to do. This was going to be more challenging than I had anticipated. I went back to the "dig deep" mantra and began hammering away.

The energy I had expended while I was lost was obvious. I was out of breath, but not out of the game. I tried to stay as positive as possible.

"It could have been worse.." I convinced myself.

The next few miles were kind of a blur. I was surprised at how well I was able to recover from my mistake and settle into a groove again.

Seeing a runner ahead of me shook me out of the trance I was in. There in the distance was Taylor, shuffling up a switchback. I kept at it, trying to close the gap between us. Every time I was able to see him, I was a little closer.

Abruptly, Doe Spring AS appeared ahead. I saw Taylor standing there refueling as I galloped in.

"What happened?" He asked.

"I got off course. 30 minutes off course." I weepingly admitted.

"I was wondering what happened.. Damn." He said.

"How much is left?" I asked one of the volunteers.

"Four miles!" she exclaimed.

I looked at my Garmin. I had already cracked 60 miles, so this wasn't exactly good news.

"Alright.. Thanks."

I grabbed a piece of a pickle, nibbled on it and left.

I caught up with Taylor and we talked briefly about me getting lost and about the race. He was very encouraging.

"See you at the end. We should get done by six!"

My goal time was around ten and a half hours, but that was out due to my dreadful mistake. But if I could finish in 11 hours through the adversity, that would be a huge accomplishment.

I am not sure where it came from, but it was something of beauty. I began running faster and faster. I came upon another runner.

"What race are you doing?" he asked.

"100K" I responded.

"Great, am I going to have to race you to the finish?" he asked me.

"I guess so!" I quipped as I jumped over the side of the trail and in front of him.

I put the hammer down and pulled away.

I saw the finish line in the distance. It felt like I was running sub-six minute pace!! I crossed the finish line and it was over!

Kristi was there to congratulate me, as always. While disappointed that I got lost, I was in total shock at how well I was able to finish off the race. That last charge secured my spot in the top ten of male finishers. 12th overall in eleven hours and some change.

Aravaipa Running put on another amazing event. If you want to experience the rugged desert and all that it can dish out, this race is for you. I am already looking forward to returning next year! Who knows, maybe I can go under 10 hours.. Aim high!!

Thank you for the support- Aravaipa Racing Team, Pearl Izumi, Feetures, Honey Stinger and Kristi!!

For a race filled with so much talent, I am beyond proud of what I was able to accomplish. I feel like getting lost showed me what I am capable of. In a strange way, I am glad I got to experience that.

It proves that when you feel like there is nothing left, there is more;

You just have to dig deep!!

Finish line fireworks! Photo courtesy of Kristi McCauley

Coldwater Rumble 52K

When I think about my venture into ultra running, the Coldwater Rumble has a significant chapter in that story. I finished off 2012 with a PR at the Tucson Marathon in a time of 02:54:01. I had worked so hard for that time and I was burned out. I wanted to run in the mountains. I wanted to soak in the scenery. For the love of God, I wanted to run on some dirt!!

I had heard about Aravaipa Running. I had heard the stories of the Coury brothers putting on quality races in the Phoenix area. So I went to the web and looked them up. I was blown away by the website and all of the races that were on the schedule. "Damn, this looks like a lot of fun right here.." I thought to myself.

The race I decided on was the Coldwater Rumble 50K. I had one 50 mile race under my belt and was excited to try out a new distance. The race didn't disappoint. I was astounded by the organization of the event(s) and I had a blast racing on some good ol' fashioned DIRT!

I wound up coming in 5th place and it was at that moment that I realized that I wanted to put marathons on the back burner and focus on running ultras.

Last year I decided that Coldwater was going to be a regular event for me and I managed a 3rd place finish. I had an absolute blast battling with Bret Sarnquist and Michael Carson and was honored to share a podium finish with those beasts.

I have been fortunate to acquire some sponsors for 2015, none of which I am more excited about than being chosen as a member of the Aravaipa Racing Team.

As I set my sights on this years edition of the race, I began to think, "Wouldn't that be rad to win it. Win an Aravaipa event in my first race representing Aravaipa. That would be TITS!"

I mean, this was the race that propelled me into becoming an ultra runner. This was the race that gave me the motivation to do what I love and forget all the bullshit.

This was that race!

So I figured I was going to give it hell and worry about the repercussions later. I wanted to win the damn race.

My training went great until I decided to bash the side of my left foot on a rock the week before the race (Thanks for the invite, Gabe!). I think I may have suffered some nerve damage but that's neither here nor there.

After spending the entire week leading up to the race explaining in precise detail the origin of my foot pain to Kristi, we headed off to the Estrella Mountains. It was race day!

I hadn't noticed anyone that was crazy fast on the entrants list, but that rarely means anything. I figured there was going to be someone that was going to push the pace and I was excited for the suffering that was in store.

Time quickly ticked by and after a few pre-race pics it was time to line up. I laced up my Pearl Izumi N2's as Jamil went over the course directions. Giddy with excitement, we all hopped up and down like Chris Christie in the Cowboy's press box. Except less awkward. And minus the fondling of Jerry Jones, but you get the idea.

The countdown commenced and it was time to RUN!

My Aravaipa teammate, Michael Carson, shot some video as we all sprinted out of the gate. I much prefer getting filmed by him than racing him! I took the lead as a group of us hit the trail. I wanted to put myself in the front and build a decent lead from the beginning. Then I would relax and settle in. That was my plan.

There seemed to be some flaws in my plan from the very start. There was somebody behind me and he was getting closer. I was pushing a pretty hard pace. Too hard. Too early.

"I know I'm being an idiot right now.." I sadly thought, "I should pull on the reigns a little.."

So I backed off a bit and the runner behind me quickly caught up.

We ran side by side for a mile or so in complete silence.

"I feel like garbage already.." I thought to myself, "This dude looks like he's on a Sunday stroll.."

"Hey... You do a lot of ultras? I asked, breaking up the heavy panting.

"I've done a few. This is just a stepping stone to something else." He responded.

"A stepping stone to what? What is this guy talking about? Who is this guy?" I pondered

"How about you?" He asked

"Yeah... I've done a few." I responded, "I'm Sion.."

"What?"

"Sion. That's my name. Sion."

"Harold."

It was pretty clear that Harold was a man of few words and we quickly went back to sharing only the sound of our running.

Soon after passing through the Coldwater AS, I decided to let Harold take the lead. He was floating along the trail and making it look effortless. I let him pull away a bit for the next mile and focused on my breathing. Eventually, I worked through a rough patch and was back on his heels.

I could tell that his pace had already slowed and I was beginning to feel much better.

"Now is the time.." I thought.

I made my move and passed Harold. I put some pressure on the gas pedal and created a little gap. Ultra running is so much strategy. Sometimes it works and sometimes it doesn't. I was taking that risk.

The next several miles were pretty flat but the wind was beginning to whip around quite a bit. I was cruising around a 6:45 pace and feeling outstanding. During every race, I remind myself to take in the beauty that surrounds us. I made sure to look into the distance and soak in the scenery.

The trail went up and down, in and out of washes. Rocks upon rocks and wind that continued to get more severe. I kept my pace locked-in despite the conditions. I couldn't see Harold behind me any longer. I figured that I was extending my lead, but as soon as I reached a high point, I looked back and there he was!

"What in the... This dude is for real." I mumbled.

The next segment of the race was filled with soft sand. The sand combined with the wind was sucking the life out of me.

"Dude is gonna catch up.." I began to think.

I made it to the Pedersen AS, refilled my handheld, stuffed a bean burrito in my mouth and bolted out of there.

Overall, I felt pretty good. It was knowing that Harold was close behind that kept me running an uncomfortable pace.

I decided not to fill my handheld at the Coldwater AS for fear Harold was closing in.

"I may regret this." I thought as I ran right past it..

I had four and a half miles to go before I got back to Rumble Headquarters. I had to milk that bottle.

I was getting excited to see Kristi at the turn around, so I punched the pace. As I neared the turnaround, Carson popped up as if straight out of a bush and began shooting some more film.

"Anyone else close?" He asked.

"There's been some dude on my tail the whole time.." I replied.

Well, you're good. You're running a smart race.." He encouraged me.

"Smart race?" I thought to myself, "I've run a terrible race so far.."

Soon I made the final decent into Rumble Headquarters. I swapped handhelds out and grabbed some more Honey Stinger chews from Kristi. I made quick work of my time there and galloped off, beginning the smaller loop.

In my mind, I had built a good lead. In my mind, I had several minutes on Harold. In my mind, I was wrong. Harold and I crossed paths as he made his way into the turnaround. I only had about a minute on the guy.

"Are you kidding me?!" I said aloud, "Who the hell is this guy??"

The beginning of the second loop had quite a bit of climbing for the first few miles. I pushed past the pain and hammered away as best I could. I put my game face on and focused all of my attention on breathing and maintaining a consistent pace.

"This is why you train, Sion." I told myself, "This is what you work for.."

I hadn't payed much attention to my time but I was clearly on pace to set the course record. On I went.

I passed through the Coldwater AS and kept on trucking. I had really fell into a groove. I knew that the final few miles were going to hurt. I was ready to embrace the pain. Embrace the suffering! Feed me! Feed my desire to feel pain!!

Then it happened. In a split second, it happened. And when it happened, I was quite sure that there would be no course record for me on this day..

I felt my legs buckle with cramps that would kill a small child. I screamed in agony. I was forced to a complete stop. My eyes welled up with tears from the shear pain I was enduring.

"For the love of everything sacred on this earth, make it stop!!!!" I cried.

I felt my right hamstring and there was a bulge the size of a softball beating like a heart. I slowly began limping forward and the left hamstring seized up, forcing me to collapse to the ground.

I lay there looking up at the beautiful blue sky, wishing I could just go a few more miles.

I forced myself up, back on my feet. I staggered forward a few steps. The pain was incredible. It was so intense. It felt like the muscles in my legs were literally going to rip right through my skin!

"Oh God.." I moaned.

I looked up and there were a few people on horseback coming my way.

"You alright?" one of them asked.

"Yeah, just some cramps. I'm almost finished.." I said, as if everything was peachy keen.

"Okay.. How far have you gone?"

I looked down at my Garmin. "Thirty two miles.."

As I said that, I realized that I was almost done. Surprisingly, I was still in first place. It was time to run regardless of the cramps!!

I slowly started jogging and the cramps remained stagnant, but ready to pounce. I put my mind elsewhere. I thought of laying on a soft bed. I thought of a good meal. I love my life and I love where I am going. In the distance I saw the finish. I pushed the pace as I made the final descent into Rumble Headquarters.

I shot through the finish line in a time of 04:30:23, good for first place and the win!! For a course that is just shy of 33 miles on a windy day and some gruesome cramps, I am very satisfied with the result. Despite missing the course record.

Kristi was there, as always, smiling and telling me how proud she was. I gave her a kiss and smiled. I was happy that it was over.

"How do you feel?" She asked.

"I feel like shit.."

And I did. And I wouldn't have it any other way!!



                                       
                                     
                ~Check out this awesome video Michael Carson put together!

                           

Putting the game face on. Photo by Kristi McCauley

Team Aravaipa 2015! Photo by Kristi McCauley

I'm very professional when it comes to racing. Photo by Kristi McCauley

Get some grit!! Photo by Bret Sarnquist 

Wrapping up the first loop, asking myself; Why do I do this silly sport? Photo by Kristi McCauley 

To the victor go the spoils. Photo by Aravaipa Running

                                        "Running an ultra always seems like a brilliant idea,

                                                    until you are running said ultra."

                                                                      ~Yours Truly

Touching Dreams

As a young child I was certain that I was going to be a professional athlete when I grew up. I just knew it. It was a fact.

It was a fact because it was my dream...

I remember my Mother asking me "Sion, what do you want to do when you grow up?"

Without hesitation, I would blurt out "I am going to play for the Phillies!"

"Okay, what else would you like to do...?" She would ask. 

Growing up in Corrales, New Mexico, I had the childhood most kids would envy. A caring family. A beautiful place to live and everything I wanted. But early on I felt lost. The lack of belonging I suffered was so confusing. I can still feel that emptiness while I reminisce.

Things didn't go exactly as I had imagined. I guess making life long plans at the age of seven doesn't always pan out. 

I eventually lost my desire to play baseball and sometime after that, I lost all motivation. I drifted through high school with no drive and no direction. It wasn't all bad, there were some good times. But truth is, I was beginning to spiral down a dangerous road. 

After high school my life grew increasingly more grim. I was lost. I did the only thing I was good at, I inebriated myself. Years went by as my days bled together. I lied to those around me and stole from the ones trying to help. I would look at myself in the mirror with disgust. 

I eventually left my life in New Mexico behind. I ended up in Tucson, Arizona. I was still determined to continue living life on my terms. And the life I lived continued to deal me a bad hand.

I vaguely remember sitting in front of an auto parts store panhandling money;

"What happened to you, Sion?" I asked myself.. "Why did you do this?"

I had bottomed out, so a grabbed a shovel and continued to dig. At some point I had a moment of clarity and hit pay dirt.

I recall sitting in a room full of people and feeling more alone than ever before. I sat there in a daze, dreaming of a better life. A life to be proud of.

"This isn't the life for me.." I remember thinking. "Get out of here."

And so I left. I left in search of a better life. 

With the continued support of my family, I eventually began to rebuild my life. And somewhere along the way, I began to run. 

First it was a half marathon with my sister, Ariana. Then it was a road races and marathons. I couldn't get enough. This led to trail running and ultras. To mountains and vistas. 

I raced as much as I could. I found peace of mind. I ate. I slept. I laughed. I cried. 

I ran until I collapsed. 

A void had been filled. I had discovered my secret to life and I was in love.

Running had saved me and subsequently, trail running defined me. 

2014 has been by far, the best year of racing I've had. I experienced just about everything imaginable in terms of weather. From blistering heat to blizzards and everything in between. I have grown quite a bit as a runner over the last year and I have worked harder than ever before.

The work has brought me one step closer to that dream I had as a young child. While ultra running will never pay my bills, it has given me purpose and a sense of belonging. It has allowed me to become the athlete I dreamt about before those dark days.

Being chosen to be a member of the Aravaipa Racing Team has proven once again that with some grit and some determination, even the most lost can find a new road. With one foot in front of the other, I have run far away from my past and into a world of beauty and peace.

Aravaipa Running has become one of the premier race organizations in the nation, putting Arizona on the map as a prime destination for those looking to participate in quality events. I can't adequately express the gratitude I have. The excitement is palpable.

I want to personally thank Aravaipa Running founders, Jamil and Nick Coury for giving me the opportunity to represent such a first class running company and family.



                                 Follow your passion, be prepared to work hard and
                                 sacrifice, and, above all, don't let anyone limit you dreams.
                                                         
                                                                               ~ Donovan Bailey



                                       

Team Aravaipa 2015  

Colossal-Vail 50/50

2014 has been one wild ultra-running adventure for me. It all started at Old Pueblo when a torrential rainstorm absolutely demolished the Santa Rita mountains and the race course. And than it was Zane Grey. A blizzard. A damn blizzard whipped through the Highline Trail during the race. A Haboob was next in line. Yes, a freaking Haboob had to join in on the fun and blow through the White Tanks during the Vertigo Night Race. Good times if you ask me!

With all the wild, crazy, wet and cold fun I had been a part of, it was far from over.  I hadn't yet raced the Mogollon Monster 100. MOG was a goal race. A race I had trained months for. So why wouldn't the cursed weather want to get in on the action?!

And so it was, another weather shit-storm crashed the monster ending the race 51 miles in. For the love of God, I can't catch a break! 

So here I am, fit as ever with nowhere to run. Such a lonely place to be. I had to find a race before I let all this hard earned fitness go to waste. That would be a damn crime!

So I began to think about my options. The most obvious choice was the Javelina Jundred. I wanted a 100 mile race and after last year, Javelina is a race that is begging me for my redemption. But having already done a bunch of loop courses over the summer, I was having a lot of trouble wrapping my head around doing more loops. Loops were making me kinda loopy.

Then like a brick to the ole' noggin, it dawned on me; The Inaugural Colossal-Vail 50/50. Hell, the race was being put on by some of my closest friends and fellow TTR'ers (Tucson Trail Runners). The course also runs along the Arizona Trail, right here in my own backyard. It just made sense.

I felt like I was in great shape and was focused on setting a new 50 mile PR. I had run some of the course and it is pretty damn fast. Lots of runnable trail with rolling hills. Holding back in this race was going to be the biggest challenge of all!

I spent the next few weeks throwing some flat runs into my repertoire. I focused on some long sustained flat running in hopes of getting used to the continuous grind. I knew that this race was going to be a grind, "flat" or not..

Sleeping in my own bed the day before a race was simply delightful. I felt well rested as my co-pilot, Kristi and I cruised through the early morning darkness. We made it to Colossal Cave Mountain Park about a half hour prior to the start.

Several people had teased me that since I had registered, they'd better bring a raincoat and gloves. But the sky was crystal clear. There wasn't going to be any crazy weather today. It was crisp and cool as the first sign of light glimmered beyond the horizon. However, the course is completely exposed. There is virtually no shade..

"It's going to get hot once that sun comes up.." I thought to myself. "I'll take it!!"

I immediately ran into Charlie Ware at bib pick-up. I figured it was going to be a good race between Charlie and myself. Charlie is a friend of mine and we had done some of our training together. This was going to be a blast!

"There is a guy that ran a six forty five 50 miler a couple week ago doing the race." Charlie informed me.

"What? Damn, that is friggin' fast.." I responded.

"I know. Looks like there is some more competition!" Charlie quipped.

The minutes quickly dwindled down and it was time to line up. The RD and good friend of mine, Ross Zimmerman got us all pumped up to be participating in the inaugural event. It was fun having a lot of familiar faces at the start of the race. 

I felt the adrenaline make it's usual pre-race trip through my veins.

I did my usual pre-race pep talk with myself;

"Don't go out too fast blah blah blah..."

"Stay hydrated blah blah blah..."

"Don't forget to eat blah blah blah..."

"Why do I do this shit blah blah blah..."

It was go time!!

I had told myself over and over not to get sucked into a fast start. That wasn't as challenging as I expected it would be. No one bolted away at an unreasonable pace. Charlie, myself and another runner led the way up the initial climb.

We all chatted and I got to meet the other runner, Kent Green. Kent was the runner that Charlie had told me about. Just a couple weeks back, Kent had run a 6:44:19 at the Chicago Lakefront 50 miler. That is solid stuff. Two weeks is not a whole lot of recovery time, so I wondered if that would hurt him in the long run. Regardless, the kid has a ton of talent and I knew he would be hanging around.

The three of us cruised at an easy pace and continued chatting away.

"What's with all the chatter?" A female voice surprisingly chimed in.

It turned out Kelly Wild was right there behind us. 

The four of us ran together as the sun rose, lighting up the beautiful surroundings. Sometimes I have to remind myself to look around and appreciate nature and absorb the moment. I did that a lot on this particular day..

Soon enough the four of us galloped into the Gabe Zimmerman AS. Dallas was there with his infectious encouragement that I've grown to love so much. We all stuffed various food items down our throats and made a quick exit.

The single track was glorious. The temperature was perfect. I could see Mount Wrightson looming in the distance. I was really trying to keep myself in check because it was such a runnable section.

"Keep it easy, Sion.." I mumble to myself.

Eventually we had to cross underneath I-10 through a tunnel. Steve Hughes and Gene Joseph were there to make sure we went the right way. We made our way through the pitch-black tunnel and suddenly a skeleton wearing a pair of Hokas appeared out of the blue! Well played, Gene. Well played indeed.

As we made the climb out of the tunnel and back atop the trail, I could see several other runners right behind us. I figured we had made good separation, so this was sort of surprising to me. 

As much as I didn't want to fall back, the feeling of my bladder exploding forced me to make a pit stop. I watched Charlie, Kent and Kelly pull away. Then two other runners came rolling passed me. Then another. 

"Hey, that's James Mills." I said to myself.

James was the very first person I ever ran with upon moving to Tucson. I met him doing one of the many road races that I did long ago. I quickly caught up to him and we had the chance to chat a little bit.

"This is my first ultra." James told me.

"You better watch out, this shit becomes addicting.." I said as I cruised away. "Enjoy!"

Soon I passed the other two runners and made it back to the original three. Only it wasn't three anymore. Charlie had made his move. I figured that it was still really early, so there was no reason to worry about that right now. I reminded myself to focus on my race.

I was feeling pretty darn good. I was chomping on Honey Stinger Chews and drinking plenty of water.  I hit the Sahuarita AS and bolted out of there in seconds. I began to pull away from Kelly, Kent and the others. I felt myself falling into a groove. This was going to be a good day. 

I hit a section that was actually a pretty good climb. I kept my heart rate in check as I cruised up the steep. All of a sudden a runner appeared behind me and quickly blew right by. Fortunately, it was Gabe McGowan, who was absolutely destroying the 50k! 

As I neared the turnaround I saw Charlie in the distance. I wasn't very far back and that gave me a little boost. Gabe came flying by again, in the opposite direction. Soon after Charlie and I crossed paths as he made his way back toward Colossal Cave Mountain Park. 

"Good job, bro!" I shouted.

"You too!" He replied.

I hit the Twin Tanks AS and quickly refueled. I talked briefly with Steve, Becky and Michelle Hawk and made the turnaround. I was a few minutes ahead of the third place runner and the next section was going to be a lot of downhill. I made the decision to use the downhill section to establish separation from the rest of the pack with hopes of closing the gap on Charlie. One of those worked out.

While I did pull away from the rest of the group, there was no sign of Charlie. 

"Damn, dude is like... Gone.." I said to myself. 

Between the two races, there were a lot of runners going in the opposite direction. Lots of "good jobs" and "keep it up" were being thrown around, keeping me company. But by the time I made it back to the Sahuarita AS, I had passed all of the other runners. I was on my own!

I love to be alone on the trail. It is a special feeling being out in the desert all by myself, knowing I am going to spend the next several hours with only my thoughts to keep me company. 

I hit the marathon mark at 3:45 and felt phenomenal. 

I made it back through the tunnel and passed the bag-a-bones. As I approached the Gabe Zimmerman AS, I realized that it was really beginning to heat up. The second half of the race was going to be a grind, I already knew it. 

I felt myself struggle a little on the climb that started around mile 30. It was constant climb from there to about mile 33. Nothing very steep but a continues ascent. This "flat" course was going to be less flat than I had anticipated. Which I had anticipated. 

Once I topped out and saw the Colossal Cave Mountain Park, I got a spark of energy. I sprinted down the winding single track, excited to see Kristi and get some cold water. Charlie appeared once again, as he started the North Leg. We exchanged quick grunts as we passed one another. I made it into the AS about 6 minutes behind Charlie.

It was great to see Kristi as I got refueled. Catlow was helping out as well as Doreen and Ross. 

"Charlie is only a few minutes ahead.." Ross explained

"Hopefully he falls apart.." I cynically responded.  "In a friendly way.."

Last minute I decided to bring my second handheld with me, which turned out to be a very wise decision. I said my good byes and took off!

As soon as I began the North Leg, I felt gassed. I was sucking wind. I couldn't breath. I wanted to turn back and call it a day. I felt the urge to vomit. I dry heaved. I cursed myself for always choosing to do this silly sport!!!

"Ahh hell..." I moaned. "Instead of saying 'hopefully he falls apart'.. I should've said 'hopefully I don't fall apart'..." 

I continued fighting off the urge to stop. Everything becomes so simple, yet so difficult. One foot in front of the other. One foot in front of the other. Don't stop. Keep on going... 

I slowly began to feel better. One foot in front of the other. I took a deep breath and looked at the beautiful desert landscape. Each step I took, I felt even better. I made it though the rough patch! 

I picked up my pace and ate a few chews. I smiled and remembered that I do this because I love it! I love to run!!

Before I knew it, I was approaching the Pistol Hill AS. I rolled on up and was greeted by Mr. Bob Bachani and his classic: "That's what I'm talking about!" 

That phrase never gets old!

Renee handed me some grilled cheese and I filled up my handhelds. 

"Three and a half miles to the turn around." Renee informed me.

"Three and a half miles.." I said.

I looked at my watch: 41:20 miles

"Wow, this race is going to be a lot further than 50 miles!" I shouted with desperation peppered in my voice.

On I went!

The next few mile were a steady descent. Not steep at all, but I did keep in mind I was going to have to run this section in the opposite direction, so I kept my pace very reserved.

Eventually I noticed Charlie running back my direction. His stride looked smooth, like he was floating along the trail. We said a few words to one another and continued on. It took me at least five or six minutes to make it to the turnaround, so I realized that Charlie had extended his lead,

"You're not going to catch him, just focus on holding onto second place.." I told myself. 

I thanked the volunteers working at the turnaround. 

"The 50 miler that's actually 54 miles.." I said to the group.

"Yeah. That's good!" One of them shouted.

"Of course it is.. More bang for your buck!" I yelled back as I began the final stretch back to Colossal Cave.

I was going to get a good idea of how far in front of third place I was. I was beginning to feel drained again but was moving reasonably fast. It had been at least five or ten minutes when I saw another runner coming towards me. Wouldn't you know, Kent was hanging onto third place! 

Not long after that, I saw Kelly coming my way as well, looking solid as ever! Then it was Pete Ziegler and Tim Stackhous. It felt like I should have arrived back at the Pistol Hill AS... The way back felt like it was taking an eternity..

"Oh, thank God." I said with relief. "There it is.."

But as I looked up again, it was gone.

"What the? Damn, I'm hallucinating." I mumbled.

After a few more hills, a few more hallucinations and a few more curse words, I arrived back at the Pistol Hill AS. 

I put some ice under my hat, got my bottles filled and got gone! Time for the home stretch! 

My watch decided to quite on me and I was riding dirty. It was kind of freeing to not look at my watch anymore, though I was a little disappointed that I wouldn't know my exact time at 50 miles. 

I hammered out those final few miles. There was a lot of suffering during those last couple but I knew it was almost over. Sometimes you just gotta embrace the suffering!

I came rumbling through the last hundred yards and across the finish line in second place with a time of 8:17:03! Hell of a PR considering the race was closer to 54 miles! 

It was over and it all made sense again! The feeling of accomplishment is something I can't put into words. It is simply priceless. I enjoyed my best 50 mile performance ever. I accomplished my goal of running the entire race (without walking) and setting a new PR. And that feels pretty damn good!

Congratulation to Charlie Ware and Kelly Wild on winning the Inaugural Colossal-Vail 50 miler! You both ran incredible races and clearly deserved to take the top spot. Also, congrats to the 50k winners, Gabe McGowan and Chrissy Parks! Well done! 

For everyone else out there pushing yourselves past what you thought you were capable of, congratulations. You are all my heroes.

It is hard to believe that this was the first year that this race has been held. The organization of the event was impeccable. First class in every way. I will definitely run this race again and highly recommend it as well. You won't be disappointed! 

I would give personal appreciation for each and everyone of you, but that would take all day. So I am just going to say thank you to everyone, staff and volunteers alike. You know who you are.

                               ~All Photographs courtesy of GOATographer (Kerry Whelan)

Mogollon Monster 100

Last summer I took a trip with some friends out to the Mogollon Rim to run part of the Mogollon Monster 100 course and check out some new terrain. I had an amazing experience that day and fell in love with the beautifully brutal and rugged landscape that is "The Rim".

"I gotta do the Monster.." I told myself on the drive back to Tucson. "One day.."

I have had a pretty wild year of racing, it has had a little of everything. A torrential rainstorm absolutely demolished Old Pueblo. A blizzard engulfed Zane Grey. Hell, even a Haboob whipped around the Vertigo Night Race forcing a shutdown.

It hasn't been your typical Arizona race conditions this year. Not at all.

But through all of the wild, wet, cold, windy and HOT conditions that I've dealt with this year, I have had my best year of running and racing, ever. So when a couple friends of mine made the commitment to MOG, I decided that now was as good a time as any. I was in!

The Mogollon Monster 100 is not just any one hundred mile race. For one, it is closer to 107 miles and has over 23,000 feet of elevation gain. The trails are extremely technical and the landscape is rugged and unforgiving. It is a beast.

As race day neared, I second guessed just about everything.

"I'm not ready."

"I need more miles. More vert.

"I need counseling."

"I'm doomed."

You know, the usual. But in reality, I had very solid training and was free from any significant injuries. I was good to go.

I finished up my last long run the week before the race and began my taper. I was having an ordinary day at work on Monday morning when all of a sudden something wasn't right. I began vomiting and got hot and cold sweats. I suffered through the rest of my work day, came home and collapsed on my couch.

I was shivering. Something was terribly wrong.

"I think I may be getting the flu.." I moaned to Kristi.

"Don't make yourself sick, your probably just nervous because of the race.." She tried to convince me.

"No, I don't think so. I think I'm getting sick.."

That night I crawled into bed around seven o'clock in sweats and a hoodie and shivered myself to sleep. I dreamt of the race. I dreamt that I couldn't run, that I just stood there while everyone else sprinted into the distance. I was paralyzed. I couldn't move.

I awoke drenched in sweat.

Things were not looking good but fortunately it wasn't the flu. My health improved during the next few days and I got refocused on the all the loose ends that needed to be taken care of. Drop bags, pacer, crew... Oh, and rain gear. That's right, rain gear.

Unbelievably, it was supposed to get stormy on the rim during the race. That's right, again, a freak storm was expected to crash an Arizona ultra!!

"There is no way in hell it is going to be that bad.." I thought to myself. "Not again."

But predictions grew increasingly worse.

It was going to be that bad.

I made sure Kristi had all the instructions to navigate around the race course and my buddy, Korey Konga was all set to pace me from mile 63. I packed more crap into my drop bags than a Kardashian and I was ready to roll.

Word Salad!!

So Friday morning I set off with Michael Duer, his wife, Kristi (not to be confused with my girlfriend) and his mother, Gail, to their family cabin which is conveniently located near Pine, where the race begins. Mike and I picked up our bibs and on our drive back to the cabin we noticed that it had already rained in the area. Lightning was flashing like a strobe light in the distance and mist wafted off the ground. It was like a scene from a horror movie.

Mike and I glanced at each other and said little. Nothing needed to be said. We both knew what was coming..

We got back to the cabin and quickly called it a night. I dozed off but was jolted out of my slumber by the rumbling thunder. I sat up shaking, my heart thumping through my chest.

"Holy shit."

The rain began coming down furiously.

"Well, maybe the storm is already passing through.." I tried to be positive.

The night continued on with that same pattern until it was time to get up. Mike and I got our race stuff together. Kristi and Gail helped us choke down some breakfast and off we went. There was steady rain fall and I grew increasingly more nervous.

We arrived at the Pine Trailhead with about an hour to spare. It was cloudy but the rain had subsided. It was actually really nice out. Soon the race director (and friend of mine), Jeremy Dougherty announced that it was time for the pre-race briefing.

Jeremy said a lot during the briefing but all I heard was "It is going to get really bad out there."

The national anthem was played and I got goosebumps as we all got ready to begin this incredible adventure.

This is what I work for. This is what I suffer for.

This is what I live for!

Time ticked down and we were off, literally and figuratively! I let a lot of runners go ahead of me, probably about 50. I told myself all along that I was not racing anyone, I just wanted to finish this race. So I eased into it.

I passed some runners here and there and settled in behind Mike. We hung with a group of about five others for several miles at a reasonably easy pace. I am a very competitive runner, so it was an unusual feeling to not pay attention or care how far back I was from the leaders. I tried to enjoy the moment in it's entirety.

The rain started up as we made a climb that brought us into the clouds. The mud made its first ugly appearance and it was clear that dealing with mud was going to be half the battle. We all sort of half laughed at ourselves as we slipped and slid up and down the slippery trail.

"The probability of me actually finishing this race is very small.." I quipped as I used every muscle in my body to not face plant into the mud. Everyone sort of laughed with desperation.

Mike, feeling like the pace was a bit too slow, passed the group and began pulling away.

"Thank God." I mumbled under my breath as I passed by our little group and hung onto his heels.

The next several miles I cruised with my broseph, Michael Duer. It was surprisingly nice out and the temperature was comfortable. Besides some mud here and there, it was perfect. It was fun chatting with Mike as we enjoyed the absolute beauty that was on display.

We took it really easy on our first big climb up the rim. We chatted with a runner from Texas on the way up (Apparently everyone in Texas does this race).  Our breathing never became labored. Easy does it. We topped out and the views were breathtaking.

The two of us rolled into Dickerson Flat AS and refueled. I discovered something at that aid station that was life changing. It should be considered a modern day miracle. The Nutella and peanut butter sandwich is made from Heaven! I can taste it right now... I digress. On we went!

Mike and I began passing runners here and there as we enjoyed some nice downhill running. Eventually we made it to a very technical and steep downhill section that dropped us straight off the rim. For the first time of the day, I pulled ahead of Mike.

I felt full of energy. I hopped and skipped down the rock cliff like a billy goat. I realized that all of the holding back I did early on was really paying off now. I made it to the bottom and dealt with some more of the muddy-mud-mud-mud.

"Damn you, Mud!" I shouted while I mud-skied down a slope.

Mike remained close behind me but it would be the last I saw of him.

I hit the Geronimo AS, gulped gatorade, ate a Nutella and peanut butter sandwich and some fruit then made my way to the Highline Trail.

I really fell into a grove when I hit the Highline. It was like Zane Grey all over again dealing with the mud on that trail. I had practiced this once before!!

I passed runner after runner. I was on autopilot. Every runner that I passed seem to be struggling which only infused the adrenaline pumping through my veins. The storm was holding off and it was at that moment that I realized that I really could do this. I was going to finish this race!

I continued cruising and soon passed a couple of hikers.

"You're in 21st place. Leaders about 45 minutes ahead." One of them informed me.

"I got a long time to catch up!" I responded.

I was really enjoying myself and the freedom that this incredible sport allows me to feel. I continued moving up in the race as I floated along the Highline Trail. 20th place, 19th place... 14th place, 13th place..

I eventually came rumbling into the Washington Park AS at mile 27. I had moved into 12th place and my adrenaline was going bonkers!

I got some dry clothes out of my drop bag and made a quick change. I was eager to get this gnarly climb up the rim over with so I didn't waste any time before I departed. Up the rim I went!

The climb up the rim from Washington Park is two miles of steepness that Kilian would approve of. The wind progressively got stronger the higher I went. I eventually topped out.

There was a few people at the top staring at me as I gasped for air.

"That shit sucked." I said with a smile as I headed off on the rim road.

The next five miles were along the rim road. It was tough to sustain running, so I found a nice rhythm. Running and walking, running and walking. The view looking off the rim is something that postcards are made of. Spectacular would be an insult.

It seemed like it took an eternity to get to Houston Brother Trail. I was so excited to get off that road. I felt like the life had been sucked out of me. I was feeling fatigued. I was a little concerned.

The Houston Brothers AS was a life saver because they had Nutella and peanut butter sandwiches. I must've eaten three or four of those heavenly delectables. I swigged some ginger ale and I carried on.

The next stretch seemed to go up and down, up and down. I got winded and gasped for air. I sat down for the first time. I leaned on a tree and looked at my watch: 8:45. I had only been going for eight hours and forty five minutes and I felt like I couldn't take another step.

"I'm toasted.." I said under my breath.. "There is no way I can go on for another fourteen, fifteen hours. No way."

I got up and took a deep breath. I stared at my surroundings. I absorbed the beauty. I smelled the fresh air. I looked down and picked a mushroom from the soil. The mushroom was covered in mud but I could see a bright red color gleaming underneath the muck. I took my fingers and wiped the dirt off it until it shined like a ruby.

"This is the adventure you've always wanted, Sion." I said to myself.

I dropped the mushroom and bolted down the trail. I am not sure what happened at that moment. Some things shouldn't be questioned. Whatever it was, it worked.

The next section of trail was the most beautiful running I have ever experienced. I floated along as if I had grown wings. I was no longer tired, instead I was full of energy. The single track trail was mesmerizing. Leaves were falling from the trees and wildflowers were in full bloom. It was precious.

I pretty much went in a zone and before I knew it I was on the heels of another runner.

"Hey, man. How's it going?" I asked him.

"Good. Man, you are looking fresh!" He pointed out.

"I had a little pep talk with myself and it seemed to do the trick!" I shouted as I flew by him.

As I approached the Pinchot AS at mile 41, I heard a familiar voice scream, "That's what I'm talking about!" And There to greet me was fellow TTR'er (Tucson Trail Runners) and Hardrocker himself, Mr. Bob Bachani! We shared a hug and it was all smiles... Then I was informed of the not so lovely news.

The storm was coming. It was going to hit in the next half hour or so and it was a doozie. I had my heavier rain gear down at Washington Park AS, which was another nine miles away. I did have a long sleeve shirt in a drop bag there, so I put that on and headed out of there. I needed to get to Washington Park.

"Long live TTR!!" I screamed as I took off.

Despite the bad news, I was excited. I was feeling solid as gold. In no time I would get to see Kristi for a little bit and Korey would pace me through the night. It was good. It was all good.

Soon I caught up with another runner and we shared a couple of miles together. We talked about the bad weather that was clearly moving in. We both agreed that we were on a pace to finish around 25 hours. We were being optimistic that the rain would come and that the rain would go. It would be fine.

The moment I pulled away from him was the moment it got ugly. The wind kicked up and the rain began to fall. The temperature immediately dropped and my hands became frozen. Lightning was striking alarmingly close and I was genuinely frightened.

All of a sudden I saw a runner coming back the opposite direction.

"I haven't seen a course marker for a long time. Are we going the right way?" He asked.

"Yeah, man. This is the right way, keep on going!" I shouted through the rain, wind and thunder. Once again it was survival mode. I've been here before.

At this point the rain was coming down in sheets and the trail was ankle deep water. It had become Old Pueblo-esq, if you will.

My hands were no longer working and hypothermia was beginning to set in.

"I am so tired of this shit!" I screamed. "Why does this keep happening..?"

I finally hit the section that I knew took me up to the top of the rim. From there I would drop down the steep section that leads to Washington Park. I was on my way.

"You are going to dry off, get some warm gear and get going." I told myself. "Quit whining, you are going to finish this thing off."

And soon I hit the top of the rim.

There were some people sitting, sheltered underneath a covering. They were all huddled near a fire.

"Hey, you okay?" one of them shouted to me.

"I'm okay. I just need to warm my hands up." I told them.

They brought me to the fire and I began defrosting my fingers.

We were having a conversation about the insanity of the storm when all of a sudden, over the radio, there was an announcement about the race.

I heard it loud and clear: "The race is going to be shut down at Washington Park."

Time slowed down and for a moment the world seemed to stand still.

"Shut down? But, I need to finish this race." I though to myself.

I looked at everyone sitting there as I stood up.

"I gotta go.." I said as I walked back into the storm.

I descended the rim in the heart of the storm. I felt like my heart had been ripped out of me. I was upset but understood that this was becoming very dangerous. I wondered where Kristi and Korey were. Were they waiting for me at Buck Springs AS? Was the rim road even drivable? Were they safe?

The stretch back to Washington Park was a blur of unknowns but I eventually made it back. I wrapped up 51 miles in a time of 11:21:03. I was in ninth place at the time.

It is bittersweet. I don't know how my race would have unfolded moving forward but I am quite sure it was going to be epic. That being said, I had an amazing experience out there and gained a ton of confidence going into my next 100 miler. I know what I am capable of.

I want to thank Jeremy Dougherty for making the tough decision to shut it down. I am quite sure that wasn't an easy choice. It was however, the right choice. Thanks to all of the volunteers and radio personal out there helping us do what we love. You are truly appreciated.

I also must note the appreciation I have for my buddy, Korey who spent hours in a car to pace me, only to spend more hours in a car and not pace me. Thanks man! And lastly, my girlfriend, Kristi who drove all around the universe trying to make sure I had everything I needed. I couldn't do this stuff without you!

And finally, I must say that I will be back to finish off The Mogollon Monster 100. I can't put it into words just how ridiculously awesome the race truly is.

It is a beautiful challenge.

Pre-race National Anthem 

Michael Duer and myself early on

Running in the clouds

Looking off the rim

Until next year..

                  ~All photo's courtesy of Andrew Pielage Photography

Porched Belonging

The rain is beginning to fall. It continues to fall harder as the night wears on. 

"I can't believe this shit.." I moan. "A torrential rain storm." 

I'm laying on a thin piece of foam that separates me from a concrete slab on the porch of a friends house. The thin mesh covering the porch is no match against the sheets of rain pounding down on me. I am drenched. The foam I am laying on is absorbing water like a sponge. I lay there wishing for a better life.

I'm surrounded by all of my belongings, everything I own. Everything that I own is right here with me on the porch. It too is getting wet. 

Earlier in the day I had talked my friend into helping me move out of my apartment. I had been evicted and I had to vacate before they changed the locks. Before they locked me out. He offered to help, along with another friend who had a truck. 

We loaded everything I owned onto the bed of the truck but I had nowhere to go..

"Can I just crash at your place, just for a few days...?"

He wasn't thrilled with the idea but allowed me to make use of his porch.

Everything I own is right here on this porch. This is it. I'm surrounded by all of it, the treasures and the trash.

A box of old baseball cards that I had since I was a child. I carried them everywhere with me, hoping one day that they would be valuable enough to make me rich. 

A pair of skis. I was going to be a professional skier. I loved to ski. I hadn't skied in a long time but I still had my skis. 

Even a life story I had written was right there on the porch. It must have been a hundred pages long. I wrote it while staying in one of the many rehabs I had patronized. It was an assignment that my counselor gave to me. 

I read it to my counselor. He said that in the thirty years he had been counseling, that it was the most articulate writing he had ever heard. He said I had a talent.

The next day that counselor would suffer a heart attack and die. 

"Why?" I asked myself. "Why is my life so troubled?"

I had some shelving units that were once in my childhood home also sitting on the wet porch. They once sat in the very room I grew up in. I still had the shelves.

What I didn't have was a home. 

I remember laying there trying to sort things out. Trying to patch things up. I did this while laying in a puddle of water. I did this while laying in a puddle of tears.

Eventually the rain water would flood the porch. A search for solutions would flood my mind. Lost wouldn't begin to describe my existence.

I choose to hold onto to such horrifying memories, remembering that they are my greatest asset. Without the memories, I lay vulnerable to more suffering.

Through the wreckage I found freedom. Through the freedom, I found a home.

I am no longer laying on a porch full of tears.