This story actually begins 2 1/2 years ago. Kelli and I decided to try our hand at our first 100 miler. We perused the numerous opportunities and landed on the Bighorn Trail Run in Wyoming. We’d never been there and it looked challenging but beautiful. We were accomplished runners, right? With 8 Bostons for Kelli, 2 for me, multiple triathlons and trail runs, we are far from elite but weren’t new runners. We signed up and started training - our goal was to do the Lookout Mountain 50M and the Georgia Death race to gain experience before our June 2016 Bighorn. Lookout was a blast but GDR was a beating - finishing but only after puking and being in the struggle bus - new experiences for me. I dug into past finishing times for Bighorn and noticed roughly a 2/3 finishing rate most years. I brought this to Kelli’s attention and she quickly said “yeah babe, 2/3 - that’s you and me finishing out of 3 people”. Mind you, this is a race at somewhat high altitude, at least for those of us living at 200 feet.
A little background on Bighorn 100. It has been running for about 17 years and is extremely well respected and organized. It starts and ends near Dayton, Wyoming. Runners take a shuttle bus to the base of the mountains, run up to about 7,500 ft, runs down to about 4,000, runs back up to about 9,000 and then returns, with the last 5 miles being a return run to a park in Dayton - fantastic venue. Many elite runners don’t do Bighorn because it is the week prior to Western States, but the level of competition there is still amazing. It is a Hardrock and Western States qualifier. The course starts at 10:00 AM and has a 34 hour cutoff.
In 2016, we looked at the 34 hour cutoff and thought a 20:00 pace or 3 mph seemed very reasonable - should be no problem! Well, long story short, I had my ass handed to me that day. It was 105 in the canyon on race day, with most of the course being exposed to the sun. Top that off with me not acclimating ahead of time, not drinking enough, going out too hard and making rookie mistakes. I knew at the mile 30 aid station that I was already cooked, but wanted to at least see the entire course, so I made a death march up the nearly 5,000 ft climb to Jaws aid station, the course turnaround, puking the whole time and unable to keep anything down. I pulled the plug at this point - I had never been this bad off and there is really no where to drop between Jaws and the next major aid station which is about 18 miles down a technical descent. I was scared, dejected and defeated. Kelli had her own experience there, but I’ll let her tell about it. Suffice it to say, we both cane home having learned a ton, but also humbled and with our tails between our legs.
Since then, we’ve gained a lot more experience. I’ve not had what I would call a really good hundred mile experience- I always end up puking and in a death march. As Kevin Randolph puts it, I’m a drama queen - although truthfully, I’m usually out of it enough that I barely know what planet I’m on by the end of a longer race. My last finish was Pinhoti and I came in an estimated 17-18 pounds and barely conscience after puking for about 60 miles. A very bad experience that I never wish to repeat. But also one that I would never of done had it not been for David Carder making me believe it would be possible - we can suffer way more than we think we can.
This year I looked hard at my training and tried to soak up what I could from successful ultra runners - to name a few, Sean Blanton helped with how to deal with altitude issues, Jason Green and Meghan Alvarado with nutrition issues, Andy Jones Wilkins with self-confidence issues and Lee Conner with training and nutrition. So many people have helped so much - one of the reasons this sport is so great! Also, my numerous trail running friends teach me things every run - sometimes what to do and sometimes what not to do (I’ve been guilty of that myself). Jackie Merritt, Annie Randolph, Steve Barber, Josh Fix, Jose Tongol and too many others to count all gave great tips and I’m grateful to everyone that would allow me to soak up what knowledge I could.
My training for the 2018 Bighorn was different than in the past. In general, I ran more slow miles but mixed in far more vertical miles. Since where we live there are basically no hills, I spent many hours on treadmills and stair climbers doing runs up to 30 miles and 5-6 hours. I tried to stay in the 50-70 mile weeks range, but the older I’ve gotten the more I go by feel and if I need a day off (or a slow and easy day) I’ll take it! This has slowed me down in races, but has also kept me away from injuries for years now. I try to go more by time on my feet any more, as I have no idea how to count for stair climber or even the occasional elliptical work in miles. More is probably better, but between family, not wanting to be burned out, staying injury free and race schedules I do what I feel is at least a little bit of a life balance.
I must confess that probably 2 consecutive days have not gone by without thinking of Bighorn and wanting redemption- or at least giving it my best shots. Last fall, Kelli and I signed up for the hundred, which started Friday morning. Following the Pinhoti 100 in November, which I completed and Kelli DNF'd, Kelli reached out to the RD and asked to be dropped down from the 100 mile to the 32 mile distance - one of the reasons Bighorn makes a great road trip if running groups or families want to race different distances (they have 18, 32, 50 and 100 mile options). Again, this has been a prevalent thought for a couple of years now. I’ve stared at the elevation and aid station chart more times than I care to remember. I’ve read race reports and watched seemingly every youtube video taken from the race. I was excited and terrified, but also committed. Fast forward to a meltdown at Chattanooga where I dropped out when I started puking, I told Kelli that I just wasn’t cut out for 100 milers and I should stick to 50Ks. Of course, I told her this within 24 hours of the race, where no one should be held responsible for anything they say! Kelli called the Bighorn RD and asked to drop me to the 50K. Well, I got an email saying my race had been successfully changed to the 50K distance and I FREAKED! I’m not sure my words were the kindest, especially once I looked at the Bighorn page and realized the hundred miler was now sold out! Suffice it to say, there was a small domestic at the Kilpatrick household and the RD was kind enough to change me back to the hundred miler. Whew!
Training had been going fairly well up to the time we flew to Wyoming. Last year, Kelli and I made our goal of at least one ultra a month – I realized that, for me, that was too much and I began to feel burned out. I also learned from my Chattanooga disaster that, again for me, one month between hundred milers is too little time to recover. So, this year we tried to be a little more sensible, with less total miles. When it was time to fly out for nearly two weeks of acclimation, I felt fairly fresh, both mentally and physically.
The two weeks prior to the race were absolutely wonderful. We found a nice Air B&B at about 5,000 feet in Story, WY and would travel every day to hang out at 8-10,000 feet to help acclimate. We did a good amount of hiking (some even through waist-deep snow) but little running. At times, we even brought books and simply read in our truck for an afternoon, but at altitude. The first couple of days I was badly winded whenever trying to even walk up hills and got headaches, but after two days I felt better. After 5 days I felt great. We were lucky that Amy and Blake joined us for the second week as well!
My friend John Lee flew out a day before the race and before I knew it, it was time for packet pickup. I am always struck by how I feel at pickup – everyone just LOOKS so fit and I always feel like I don’t fit in. For this reason, I usually like to pick up my stuff and get far away from the hubbub. Not that I don’t enjoy it, but I usually end up so intimidated and become my own worst enemy as far as confidence goes. The Lees and my family enjoyed a great lunch at the Cowboy Café, talked a little race strategy, did a little shopping in Sheridan, WY and then went on our way home to relax.
The 10:00 AM start time makes logistics nice on race morning. We had to be to Scott Park (the eventual finishing area) by 8:00 for a race briefing, then catch a bus ride to the actual start line about 4 miles away. We were able to make the all-important potty stops in the morning and by the time we got to the shuttle buses we were ready to go. It is an interesting feeling with everyone milling around on a gravel road at the start line. My mind was full of memories from my last failed attempt and knowing what lay ahead was a scary thought. Talking with John helped for sure to keep things calm and we both decided to start towards the back, if not at THE back. The clock ticked down faster than it seemed like it should have and before we knew it we were off! We ran very slow for the first section – even if we wanted to we couldn’t of gone faster because of the line of people in front. Within about a mile, we hit single track and started going up. In the past, I’ve been uncomfortable in conga lines but this time I just settled in behind everyone, knowing it was going to be a LONG day, night and day ahead.
I had a race strategy this time of staying overly hydrated, drinking at LEAST one water bottle (21 oz) every 45 minutes. Lesson learned from last year. Also, stay on top of nutrition, eating at least 150 calories an hour – real food at aid stations when available and stroopwafels in between. Gels only used as emergency. I packed a bivvy for emergencies, a warm shirt, a small pocket knife, my emergency whistle, a waterproof shell, a warm hat, 2-Toms for chaffing prevention (more on that later) and a baggie with a headlight and a change of batteries in my backpack. I carried three water bottles – two in my pack and one in a waist pack. There are great aid stations, but there had been a rock slide and crappy weather and we didn’t know if aid workers could even get to all of the stations, some of which they have to hike to or get there on horseback – I wanted to make sure I never got dehydrated. In retrospect, I could of just brought my water filter and carried two bottles, but it worked out OK.
The first climb is amazing! We went from about 4,000 feet to 7,500 in about 7 miles – parts of which were gradual, but parts extremely steep. Everything opens up and you see breathtaking rocky peaks above and are surrounded by wildflowers
I noticed a few things right off the bat this year – I could breathe easier than I had 2 years ago, the pacing with the slow group was good but maybe too good, and my legs felt really good. I remember 2 years ago getting to the mile 13 aid station and already feeling whooped. This year, I climbed and eventually passed people but kept a very easy and what felt like a sustainable effort. The only down side is that after a while of head down and hands on knees hiking, I lost John Lee. It turned out he had one of the days that I had at Chattanooga and pulled the plug, but he has done like 15+ hundred milers and will bounce right back. The difference for me was that now it was going to be 100% up to me to take care of myself during the race. I had no pacers and no crew (although Amy, Kelli and Blake did meet me at the first major aid station (mile 13 – dry fork). One of the best things that happened here was I had an appetite and crammed two wraps in my piehole – one a ham and cheese and one a peanut butter and jelly. They tasted good to me and gave me no issues – a great sign. I was well hydrated and had my legs still – also good signs.
The next 12 miles are at about 7,000 feet with a lot of short ups and down, trails and some dirt road mixed in. At I’d say about mile 22 or so, we heard thunder, followed by hail and then light rain. The hail was interesting – not big enough to really hurt, but big enough to sting when bouncing off of our heads. It is also close to the point that we drop down a steep section called the wall – where we lose about 2200’ in about 4 miles, with much of that stretch being very steep. At this point the trail was already getting slick and muddy from the rain. It was fairly technical in spots making it slow going for a plodder like me. At the bottom is the Sally’s Footbridge aid station, the second major stop (mile 30). Again, I ate a bunch of food and felt WAY better than I did at this point 2 years ago. In 2016 I was already puking and was baked – I went on only because I wanted to see at least half of the out and back course. This year, I felt great and was looking forward to the trip to Jaws, the approximate halfway point. I grabbed my hiking poles and ate a sandwich and a cup of ramen noodles and capped it off with a couple of mini candy bars. I set off to Jaws on what I figured would be a mudfest. It was still rainy and the rain increased all the way to the top. Amazingly, my appetite was so strong that I even grabbed a couple of gels for the trip from Footbridge. I have a very checkered past with gels and have basically sworn them off. They are handy because they fit so conveniently in shorts pockets. I wasn’t even keeping track of pace and just figured I would race my race and whatever happened would happen. I figured from my past efforts that I was fine and just keep moving, but keep things under control.
The climb to Jaws is about 4,300’ in about 17 miles and a short jaunt on a road to the aid station at the top. Parts of the climb were extremely technical, but most of it was just mud. It was so nice to have my feet this year and I felt tired but good all the way to the top. The mud was crazy though – feet were wet and slipping most steps so I just had to focus on keeping moving and trying not to fall down. Led to a very jerky body movement – different from any other running I’ve done. It was fun to see the top runners come flying back down the hill, seemingly dancing through the mud and over the rocks. I used to be sort of jealous, but now I appreciate the art of them doing their thing. It was getting dark and I wanted to hi-5 Aaron Saft on his way back down, but I missed him. The rain kept picking up and it got windier at higher altitudes – I was getting cold so eventually I pulled out my rain shell and put it on. I didn’t have gloves so my fingers got cold, but other than that I stayed OK. My only downfall was everything was wet, my hat was on backwards due to my headlight and my glasses were wet so I couldn’t see well. Oh well, at the speed I was moving it didn’t matter too much. Eventually, I made it to the Jaws aid station.
Jaws is a very cool aid station. At about 9,000 feet, they set up a large heated tent and have a bunch of awesome volunteers and medical staff checking people. It felt so good to answer all of the questions honestly but in a way that said “im good”! In 2016, it was awful for me though. Back then, many people were in bad shape – I was freezing cold, puking, and couldn’t hardly gather my faculties. This year, it was 100% different! I went in feeling hungry and looking forward to gathering my will for the return trip. I ate three big slices of cheese quesadillas – some of the best food Ive ever had. A warm cup of ramen noodles went down easy too. This year, the tent had the medical casualties separated, but I didn’t spend much time looking around anyway. I kept smiling, ate food, grabbed a few gels, thanked everyone, checked out and headed back down to Footbridge, now about 18 miles away.
The trip to Footbridge was absolutely a slip-n-slide. By now, most people had come through on the way up and many people had already headed through back down. Sometimes the mud was to my knees and sometimes it was just slick as snot. I was SO thankful I had my trekking poles and at times it seemed that was the only thing that kept me upright. It was SLOW going for me, but I knew if my stomach could hold together, I could keep moving. Of course I was tired (I reached Jaws in something like 14 hours), but was doing OK. I had a couple of hot spots on my feet, but with the mud, I didn’t feel like I could do much about them anyway so I just trudged on. I reached footbridge at about 20 hours. I kept waiting for the other foot to fall and for my stomach to flip. But so far, so good. I was even eating gels and (gulp) they even tasted good! Once again, my legs were tired at Footbridge, but I downed some real food and off I went. By now, all of us had healthy (and thick) mud coatings on our legs – but aiding to the feeling of being in good shape was the sun coming up. If you’ve ever experienced running through the night, the sun coming up is absolutely glorious!
Leaving Footbridge to the next major aid station was another 17 miles or so, but included a trip back up the wall. I remembered Kelli’s description of going up the wall in 2016 and she wasn’t kidding! It was incredibly hard – by now, it was a complete mudpit, with every single step seemingly contested, with slipping back 1 inch for every 2 forward. Trekking poles kept me upright and were a huge help, but it was SLOWWW going – I did 2 of those miles in more than an hour total (including getting off course once, but not too much damage was done). Getting to the top I was exhausted and was in full walking mode (or “power hiking” as we like to call it to make ourselves feel better). I started doing runners math, which almost never works, and determined that I could finish in about 33-33.75 hours or so (cutoff was 34 hours) as long as I kept moving. A nice distraction was seeing other runners flying by – the faster 50 milers came screaming down the trail and eventually we would be swallowed up by them and some of the slower 50K runners (who were mostly still moving faster than I was by mile 85-90!). The thought occurred to me that I would be very proud of getting as far as I could, no matter what happens. I felt as if I was doing the best my abilities on this day would allow and I was doing things more wisely than in the past. Eating and hydrating well, even when it slowed me down some was vital to keeping moving. Plugging along, the trail finally started to get less slick (not dry, just less nasty) at about mile 75 or so. I made it to dry fork in about 27 hours or so. 7 hours to go the last 17 miles or so. At my speed (and I knew there was some difficult sections, at least for me, ahead) I walked the uphill stretch to dry fork thinking “holy crap – I’m going to finish this”! Near the top of that climb, I heard “Go John!” I looked up and saw Amy and Blake! I had been alone for many many hours so that was a wonderful gift! Amy told me I looked great (I didn’t feel great in my legs, but mentally I was happy) and Blake told me I was doing great! Those words, I knew, could carry me to the end. I started getting emotional as I realized that a) I was going to finish and b)it meant so much to me to be able to share it with people I care about. I started to tear up and told Amy that I’ve got to go before I have a meltdown!
The last section involved one relatively short but steep climb (that was rough), but then a long downhill. My legs were shot, so I had to move slow down the hill. My back upper back gives me problems time to time and the jarring and jerking from the mud and downhills had it screaming. I took it slow but steady – it started to warm up a bit and amazingly, I still was able to eat gels and stayed hydrated. FINALLY, I reached the bottom and hit the ROAD! This meant we had about 5 miles to go – my feeble mind at this point tried to calculate if I could finish but it wasn’t working well. I had the thought that maybe I could even break 33 hours! I am completely awful on technical trails even on a good day and with fresh legs, but on the road I could walk at a 13-14 minute pace that felt SOOOO fast. I passed the popsicle aid station that I’d dreamed of getting to. That was the best tasting freeze pop I’ve ever had! When we finally got close to town and could see the park it was just a crazy rush of emotion! Before I knew it, I was in the park and could see Kelli, Amy and Blake waiting and cheering for me. We had a short little “run” to the finish line and then it was over! I had done it! A little over 31:30, but honestly finishing time had nothing to do with anything – I was a FINISHER! TWO YEARS of work coming to fruition – and giving pretty much everything that I had. This was also the FIRST hundred miler that I’ve finished without puking and without feeling like death – I was tired but because I had been able to eat and drink I wasn’t loopy and destroyed.
Looking back, it is such a crazy feeling to work for something for that long, fail and step up and finally finish. I am incredibly happy and proud - not in an I'm better than anyone else way, but that I'm better than the voice in my head that said you can't do this race.
Some final stats for the race are:
Gun Time 31:37:33.10
Overall Finish 101 / 167
Gender Finish 91 / 143
Age Group Finish 42 / 63
The average time was 30:00:34. Yes, I was slow, but I don't care one bit! It was my race using my abilities and to me, I won first place in the John Kilpatrick division!
I don't know how many people actually started the race, but I saw somewhere that a little less than half finished - according to ItsYourRace results, there were 57% of people that made it to the finish that also made it to Dry Fork (167 out of 292). This makes me a little sad for the people that didn't get the finish but also excited for the opportunity to finish another time. I know for me, my failure gave me the opportunity to overcome and I wouldn't trade it now for the world. If nothing else, I hope everyone took away an amazing experience at a one-of-a-kind course.
Some random observations:
Bearded, tattooed, craft beer drinking guy was almost absent there! As opposed to what I'm used to and comfortable with in our Southeastern races, most people there were WAY more clean cut. They were also more serious. Not in an unfriendly way - quite the opposite. The people were wonderful - just maybe not as much into the 8th grade humor as most of us knuckleheads are where I live (Georgia). I noticed no whiskey at any aid stations - which is fine by me seeing as how I don't drink anyway. The first day, Kelli being Kelli jumped into help at the Dry Fork aid station and wore her pink unicorn hat. No one got that at all - no one commented, no one laughed, no runners laughed. I guess when you are surrounded by deer, antelope, elk, moose, marmots, etc. a unicorn draws no attention. It really makes me wonder what people from there must think when they come to a Run Bum, GUTS, Dumbass or Yeti run down here.
The aid stations there were absolutely awesome. They were spaced very well and some of those people had to work their butts off to even get to the areas. One site they normally have to get to on horseback had the trail blocked by a rockslide, so they had to hike everything in for miles - uphill on technical terrain. They had to camp and spend the night there and probably had to work for more than 20 hours. They were absolutely awesome and helpful all the way around. Great food and very much in control - knowledgeable about the course too, which was nice. Some of the stations are run by extended families that do it every year - not even runners, just people that want to help out! The town of Sheridan was very welcoming and the people in the area were all awesome and friendly. Oh, and the course was marked extremely well - you would have to really work to get lost in any meaningful way there.
There are miles and miles of trails to explore apart from the actual race, making it a wonderful family trip to share. The Cloud Peak Wilderness area is wild and stunning. Several trips we loved were the Bucking Mule Trail and Porcupine Falls near the Jaws aid station (also a trailhead), the Pemrose Trail in Story, the Cloud Peak Out and Back trail and the Sherd Lake trail. Tons of others out there, but all beautiful.
Thank you Bighorn Mountains, thank you to the folks that years ago put this run together, thank you to the folks that work so hard to maintain the trail, thank you to the volunteers and the RD and her team, and thank you especially to Kelli for always encouraging and believing in me!
As a side note, I've almost worn my wristband through, but I think of you Hunter when I'm out and all alone on these runs and you always inspire me. Love you dude.
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