Ulli Kamm

After Hardrock was cancelled, I was looking for an alternative this summer. So I went to Idaho last weekend for the "Bear 100". And here is what I found:

a.. One of the best organized races

b.. 15 wonderful aid stations with everything you may wish; plus extremely helpful and friendly volunteers

c.. Drop bags to all aid stations

d.. A very well marked course

e.. Autumn tree colors as I've never seen them before: many, many square miles of red maples mixed with yellow aspen

f.. Perfect weather: Dry, not too cold at night, not too warm during the days, nearly no wind

g.. Great awards (belt buckle and huge plaque - even for me at the end of the pack)

h.. Dinner coupon for every runner

i.. A really challenging course with lots of climb (17,000 ft.), but also fast sections

j.. Still a family atmosphere

Mark your calendar. This is a race every friend of 100 milers should do!

Thank you Leland.

Ulli

(Ulrich Kamm)

James Miller

"No chunks, no glory!" my grandmother never tired of saying. Those hallowed words echo in my head as I retch my soul into the night. I have not been able to retain much of anything much since 40 miles and now I intend to drop. I've run 50 miles, I feel pounded and I can't fathom doing another 50 miles. I finish my spew and stagger back to the Paris Canyon aid station where the crew are kindly trying to get me to try to eat again. They tell me that there's plenty of time left and for me to be patient, that I can still continue. I don't believe them. I have never felt this bad during a run before. Some part of the remaining part of my thinking head tells me that if I drop now, I'll regret it later. My heart says damn the future and the inevitable flood of scorn that will be coming from my kin and peers. I'm going to drop.

I entered the Bear 100 on a minimal amount of training this year. I've been inconsistent all year and probably can't say I've been even averaging 20 miles per week. A month ago, I ran a 50 mile workout and declared myself fit enough to finish the Bear. Now I'm paying for it.

Thursday I came down with a serious dose of the runs from a bowl of split pea soup I had in Salt Lake. This morning my bowels still felt like they were crawling with pestilence but the real watery phase was gone so off I went into the early morning. Perhaps that was my mistake.

I took the first stretch of the trip very conservatively. This is quite a pleasant section to move across when fresh.I don't know if this is a good or bad year for leaves but to me they were spectacular through this section.

The trip up from Maple Creek aid station follows one of the prettiest streams I've seen. It's clear and blue with lots of healthy moss growth. There is not much iron in the system here. The Bear River Mountains here are underlain by Cambrian and Ordovician sandstones and carbonates. What I saw all day was limestone and little else. There are caves here. The people who know the area say they know of a few caves. I am sure there are many more that most locals don't know about. Caves are outside the interest set of most people and cavers themselves don't discuss locations much outside their circles. I still consider myself a spelunker though I do little of it anymore. Country like this holds my attention.

I climbed the long haul up to the crest of the range at a conservative pace and felt only fair at the top. At Franklin Basin (16 mi), I was able to eat very little and what I did eat came up shortly after I left. I was more successful at Danish Pass and was able to continue the southern loop feeling pretty good. I ate very little at the Beaver Creek aid station but was able to consume some at Fish Haven.

By the time I got back to Danish Pass, I was feeling pretty rocky. I ate as much as possible there, which was limited and then continued on but once again lost everything near the top of the first climb up to the ridge. I had been looking forward to this section and indeed the scenery on both sides of the ridge was remarkable. I was not in the mood to appreciate it however. I rested a short while at Bloomington and was able to keep down a sandwich and coke. The miles were getting longer. I finally pulled into Paris Canyon at dusk.

I've been here 4 hours now. It is approaching 11:00, the cutoff time for this station. The aid station crew here now refer to me as "The Dead Thing" and it is obvious that they don't really want my rotting carcass underfoot for the remaining 15 hours or so that they are doomed to be here. They have convinced me that the only reasonable thing to do is to go on. My main concern about dropping is that I am supposed to meet Simon at Copenhagen Road who will pace me the last 25 miles. I will continue another 25 miles and I'll drop there. The decision is simple. My stomach is mostly settled and I have no further excuses. I eat a few potatoes and off I go into the night.

The trip across to dry basin is long. Initially I feel fresh but the weariness returns soon. Still I cover it in 2+ hours and make up 15 minutes on the cutoff, not that it is much of a concern. At dry basin (58 mi) they have a wonderful fire. How nice it would be to sit there for the remainder of the night. I do not give myself that option. They inform me that there is another runner who just left who thinks he's the last one out and suggest that I could startle him silly if I play my cards right.

The trip up to Green pass is tedious. I like the trip down the other side however. I catch the fellow in front of me during this section and we briefly exchange greetings and I move on steadily. The road

section that follows seems to go on forever. I have forgotten my maps

and course description back at Paris Canyon so I'm at the mercy of the markings. Fortunately the markers were thorough and I have no problems following the route but I can only judge my progress by time.

I arrive at Danish Flat aid station (66 mi) where one drop is sleeping peacefully by a lovely fire. He looks so content. They give me some great hot apple cider and I am able to eat a couple of slices of potato then back to work.

I make a target to arrive at Copenhagen Road station by dawn. I cover the next section at a leisurely pace, feeling better as I go. The clouds have cleared mostly and the last quarter moon is lighting up the outlines of the surrounding hills. The forest is quiet and peaceful apart from the occasional coyote calls and I become actually quite hungry. This section goes too fast and I am at Copenhagen Road (74 mi) before I know it. Somewhere along this stretch I become aware how utterly spineless I have been and know I can easily finish the trip.

I am able to eat and enjoy a large cup of noodles and some melon. I give Simon the boot out of his warm bag and we move on. That climb up the road out of Copenhagen road is a miserable stretch. It seems eternal. Then daylight returns and we move across the section to Dry Basin (82 mi) pretty well. Simon is good to have along. He sets a formidable pace that I initially have trouble holding. Soon I fall into the new rhythm and other than the ache of the legs, I become comfortable

I eat alot at Dry Basin and have no further stomach problems. The cantaloupe is particularly good. The seven miles back to Paris Canyon go easily. Amazing what some food can do.

The last section from German Dugway to the end is great. The view of Cub Canyon with all those fiery red oaks in my opinion is the most visually stunning scene in a trip rich in scenery. I've been dreading the "Lelands (insert noun and modifier if needed)" section. I was expecting the trail from hell but in general it is pretty moderate. The down hill section of the trip is colorful and quite enjoyable. I finish moving well and in good form. The finish line comes and suddenly the trip has ended a little short of 32 hours.

My goal for the day was to finish without injuring myself and have reserves at the end. I accomplished that goal. I ran the second 50 just two hours slower than the first if you don't count those unhappy hours at Paris Canyon. I thank all of those people who took your time to support this race. It is an incredible course that effectively shows off the Bear River Mountains in their autumn colors. I am particularly grateful to those at Paris Canyon. Without their kind persistence, I would not have finished. I learned a great deal this trip.

James Miller

Louise Wholey

The race was terrific! My husband and I ran together again

and greatly enjoyed sharing the views of the spectacular scenery. Most notable was running along an 8000 foot high ridge as the setting sun colored both the sky and the already red groves of maple trees in the valleys below us. Wow!

Apparently every 100 miler has to have some "fun" section.

For the Bear this is a faint little "trail" at 93 miles,

called the "skunk" or "squirrel" trail depending on who is discussing it. It was fun! I felt like a mountain goat scrambling through the gorgeous multi-colored maple trees. Fortunately time was not an issue! Jim said it took an hour to go 1.5 miles.

This race will likely become much more popular as the word

gets out that it is a great race in a beautiful place. It

is truly amazing to me that there is a lottery for Western States and some other races while so many wonderful low-key races like the CCC and Bear 100 appear to be unknown to the bulk of the ultra community.

Happy running!

Louise

Mark Swanson

As there have been several excellent Bear 100 reports, I’ve decided to offer

miscellaneous ramblings about my first 100 mile race.

My sister Linda (pacer) and I arrived early at the pre-race meeting Thursday

and asked if we could help. Leland put us to work stuffing the race packets,

we finished when about half the runners had arrived. Leland also had a

computer analysis of the course (based on topo maps) which computed an

elevation gain of 23,000 feet, rather than the 17,000 advertised (including a

disclaimer that this type of analysis tends to understate actual gain and

distance).

We headed over to the start at Deer Cliff Inn (referred to as Deer Creek Inn

in all the race literature). We had been too late to reserve a cabin, but

the owner Joy had told me on the phone, “I have plenty of beds in my house,

you can just stay with us”. Joy was a great and generous host and refused

payment for the night at her home (we had been able to rent a cabin for

Saturday night).

My plan was to average 4mph for the first 50 miles (12:30) and 3mph for the

last 50 (16:40) for a sub-30 finish. My plan almost worked to perfection. I

fell into a pattern the first day of 3mph power-walking up steep hills, 4mph

speed-walking on flats and gentle hills, and 5mph running on downhills. This

worked great- I felt good and I got through the first 50 in 13 hours and made

up the difference soon after to arrive at mile 66 at midnight (18 hours),

leaving me 12 hours to go 34 miles, right on schedule. The only incident all

day was when a yellow-jacket got in my full-length trail-running pants and

stung me three times (knee, thigh, ankle) before escaping (I never saw him!).

I met my sister at Dry Basin, mile 58, and immediately we picked up the pace,

covering 8.2 miles in under two hours. Leaving the mile 66 aid station I

started to run out of gas. I figured I had already done the hardest thing

(physically) I had ever done in my life so I shouldn’t be surprised-

hopefully I would get a second wind somewhere down the trail. The eight hilly

miles to the next aid were very difficult for me and I was glad my sister was

along to keep me moving. I also noticed a little wheezing when I exhaled,

but didn’t think much of it. At mile 74 aid station I collapsed and sat

awhile. Unfortunately not a single volunteer came over to ask if I needed

anything (I was the only runner there)- the only aid station where I wasn’t

showered with attention. My sister ran around getting me what I needed and I

felt better when we took off, though the subsequent 1200 foot relentless

climb seemed twice that long. It was about 3:30 AM and I decided that whether

I broke 30 or not, it wouldn’t be for lack of trying. (I found later that

this section where I ‘revived’ was the lowest section of the main course,

most of which was above 8000 feet) About 4AM we caught and then passed the

eventual first-place woman, Mary Worth, and her pacer, and got to Dry Basin

(mile 82.4) by 6 AM, back on schedule.

I left my sister here, grateful for her 9 hours of nighttime assistance, and

decided as soon as it got light I would do some running and try to build a

cushion. As dawn broke I reached deep inside and found… nothing. Oh, well I

could still walk it in, and most of the last ten miles were downhill. If I

can backpack all day at 3 mph, I could finish this race downhill at that

speed. But first I had 2200 feet of climb to Paris Canyon. My energy

diminished even more. A slight incline left me walking breathlessly and

slowly, then needing to stop and rest every dozen paces. Now a sub-30 looked

unlikely, but at least I would finish. I got worse. Even level walking was

hard, I could never get enough air. Finishing at all seemed unlikely, though

maybe I could make it to Paris Canyon, sleep and rest a couple hours and

still finish. I figured I was just utterly, totally exhausted. Still I got

worse! Twice I tried to lay down and nap but couldn’t sleep. Frequently I

sat down and rested. Now I was wondering if I could even make it the final

3-5 miles to the aid station! Finally Mary and her pacer came by, I had

gained about an hour on them before falling apart. They encouraged me to

focus on breathing and said it was mostly level the rest of the way. They

went ahead and warned the aid station workers. They had seen that I was very

pale and that my hands were swollen, though I didn’t notice this. I was

feeling a little dizzy and out of balance, but made it in by 9:30 (7.7 miles

after Dry Basin). The two volunteers immediately ‘diagnosed’ me as

suffering from high altitude pulmonary edema, and sure enough, I was coughing

phlegm out of my lungs. They said that it was all downhill and after a nap

and some soup and water I should be able to walk down and finish. I laid

down for an hour but didn’t sleep (sleeplessness is one of the symptoms of

HAPE, I was working too hard at breathing to get any sleep!). I did here

Barry Fisher and Hans and some others pass through the aid station. I got up

after an hour and had some soup and drank water till I peed (I had been

staying hydrated and was peeing all along). They let me go and I made the

next three downhill miles quickly and feeling pretty decent. At the infamous

devil’s den (Leland’s ledge) two-mile torture track I tweaked my back and

developed a horrible back spasm. As a result I had to walk the last five

miles (steep downhill) VERY slowly, listing to one side to relieve the

pressure from the spasm. James Miller and another runner passed me with 2.5

miles left and finished 25 minutes ahead of me!

But I finished, proud to be a survivor! 32:15, 21st place out of 45 or so

starters. As Mary finished in 29:40 (13th overall) and I had been an hour

ahead of her at 7AM, I realized that had I avoided the HAPE and the back

spasms I may have actually had a top ten finish in my first 100! Oh well,

looks like I’m going to have to do this again and try to get it right next

time! Leland didn’t give any awards for shoulda-woulda-coulda’s!

Notes:

I never had stomach problems, living mostly off Clip 2, Ensure and gu, with

some fruit and soup and one pb&J sandwich. My stomach was touchy, and my

diaphragm area felt sore, for several days after the race. High carb diets

help against HAPE so maybe I should have done more gu and less ensure?

A week later, I’m still feeling systemic weakness. I saw a doctor in Logan,

Utah at the ER on Tuesday as I was still having trouble walking uphills-

coincidentally he had written an article on altitude sickness for the ESPN

website. He confirmed the HAPE diagnosis and said my lungs were now clear

and my blood oxygen was back to normal and gave me a precautionary EKG and

declared it to be “perfect” and “a distance runner’s EKG”, which was

comforting as my dad had his first heart attack around this time of life.

According to the Merck Manual, people who live at altitude and descend to sea

level for 10-14 days, then return to altitude, have a higher incidence of

HAPE. I had backpacked the Tahoe Rim Trail over a two week period, descended

to Redding for two weeks then gone up to Utah (4500 feet) for four days prior

to the race. The race started at 5500, but was almost entirely above 8000

feet, which is generally the lowest altitude at which HAPE occurs. HAPE is

much more frequent in men than in women and one of the main causes (besides

altitude and lack of acclimatization) is “overexertion”. The Tuesday before

the race I had done a 16 mile trail loop in four hours, including 4000 feet

of climbing and topping at 9990’ and felt fine (a little challenging above

9000, but the Bear tops out at 9200).

What I did right: Working on speedwalking. A 100 miler is more of a fast

hike than a run for most of us. If you can average 4mph walking you can

finish in 25 hours! But you need to learn proper technique and work at it.

I’m up to maybe an intermediate level at best, but that helped me a lot! I

also trained by doing a lot of backpacking (500 miles) and lots of 50 milers

(four, plus a 100K, plus an 80 mile track run, plus a 50K) in the six months

leading up to the race. Besides conditioning, this made my feet (almost)

blister-proof.

What I need to improve: I need to do more ab-work and upper-body

conditioning. Prior to HAPE, my torso felt the effects more than my legs. I

need more mid-body strength and muscle tone to do my best. Obviously, if I

do another high altitude race I’ll need to spend more time acclimatizing.

By the way: My little $20 Princeton Tech Rage (single focused LED, 4 AAA

batteries) put off far brighter light and was all around far better than my

expensive Photon Fusion 7 LED (which washed out my depth perception).

The fall colors were gorgeous- beautiful yellows and oranges and reds- in

fact, the exact same color as the course marking flags! And some (not most)

of the flags were cut so short as to blend in perfectly with the leaves-

camouflaged course markings!

This is a tough course- lots of loose and fixed rock to trip over or slip on.

Lots of poor footing and too-steep downhills.

We had perfect weather- low 60s in the day, low 40s at night- but if it had

rained (the rain held off til the next night)- Leland’s ledge would have been

almost impossible. As it was, it took several hours for the first two

runners who went through in the night (must have been impossible to find the

way!)- costing Hal a course record and costing the second place finisher a

sub-24 (he finished in 24:02 after spending a couple hours trying to find his

way through those two trail-less miles in the night; and I hear he was a lot

more ticked off than he let on publicly). Tuesday morning I woke up in Logan

to a beautiful snowstorm!

Mark Swanson, Redding, CA (elevation 650, temp 93).