• Race: The Bear 100 Endurance Run
• Distance: 100 miles (99.19 according to my Strava)
• Vertical Gain: 22,816 feet (20,646′ according to my Strava)
• Vertical Descent: 21,589 feet
• Time: 28:53:09
• Dates: 9/23/22 & 9/24/22
• Runners: 313 starters and 235 finishers (75% finish rate – the highest ever for the event)
• Full Results: https://ultrasignup.com/results_event.aspx?did=88355
• Strava Track: https://www.strava.com/activities/7861192365/overview

(Author’s Note: This is a long trip report. Probably way too long. Sorry in advance. As much as anything, I rambled on just to help remember everything for myself. Not to mention to pay tribute to an awesome race. Hopefully someone else enjoys this too. Or it becomes a useful trip report for another runner in the future…)

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Prelude – How to Sign Up for a 100 Mile Race

“In so many ways, our sport is such an incredible, beautiful thing. But it’s also completely stupid.” – Me

I think the only reasonable way to make yourself sign up for a 100 mile race is to do it in a moment full of impulse, peer pressure, and some sort of other life high. A bold declaration of “f*ck it” helps too. Or at least, that was my experience. When I signed up for the Bear 100 back in late 2021, it took all these things to make me finally pull the trigger.

I’ve been a runner and a climber for pretty much all of my adult life. Over the past few years I have discovered the joy of combining the two together. What began with an eye opening first 50k at the 2018 Dirty 30 quickly evolved into a slew of follow up races, long mountain running days, and many, many hours on the trails. By my count, I had run a marathon or longer 19 times before doing the Bear. So, in many ways, I felt like I was ready.

But 100 miles sure felt different. Because it is.

On the one hand, as Ben so aptly put it, a hundred mile race really is the “pinnacle of the sport”. It’s sort of become the ‘new marathon’ and represents a very appealing goal. It is perfectly situated in that tantalizing in-between zone of something that is super hard and pretty ridiculous, but still doable for most people. Humans love that zone. And I’m no exception. A hundred was an all-too natural and enticing objective.

But on the other hand, it’s still 100 damn miles. I lost count of the number of people who told me, “I don’t even like to drive that far, let alone try to run it” while preparing for this race. And they’re right. It’s a long-ass way, no matter how you look at it. And in some ways, the distance isn’t even the hardest part. The staying awake for 30+ straight hours and the 22,000+ vertical feet of gain both make a strong case to be even worse. It you think about all this too much the reasonable part of your brain would never let you voluntarily sign up for something like this.

So, that’s why my first strategy was to deploy one of the most time-honored ways to do things that you don’t want to do in the mountains: peer pressure.

Long story short, I somehow convinced Benny to sign up for some races with me. We both agreed to put in to the lottery for The Bear 100 and The High Lonesome 100. We figured we’d see who got into what and plan from there. Predictably, we got into the opposite races from one another. And so, the table was set for each to have his own adventure.

But even with that social pressure in place, I still had to lean on impulse for the actual sign up. I think I was coming off of some sort of really good life week (maybe it was filled with holiday cheer or something) and felt great about the prospects of the world that night. I think there was whiskey involved too. So, I logged into Ultrasign up to ink my fate. But even with all of that, I still remember thinking to myself, “You just have to sign up really fast and give them your money without even thinking about it. Then you’ll just be forced to do it.” As I mentioned, I’m pretty sure I also muttered “f*ck it” out loud to hype myself into just pushing the button.

Whatever the case, the deed was done, and I was officially signed up to try to run 100 miles all at once. The journey which would last for most of the next year had begun.

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Training – Preparing to Run Against a Bear

“I had to run 1,000 miles in order to be able to run 100 miles.” – Brendan Leonard

That journey officially started on January 1, 2022, with a 3 mile skin around my neighborhood in the aftermath of the first snowstorm of the season. Coming off several years of pretty intense training (mainly as a mandatory outlet for me to deal with the insanity of COVID + the societal breakdown shenanigans of the past few years), I had taken the last ~five months of 2021 completely off from running. I intentionally gave my body and mind a much-needed rest. It felt great.

But it also meant I was out of shape. So, I knew my training would need to start early in the year. I’m definitely not one of these super specimens who seem to be able to do races like this on only a few months preparation and with a few big days just thrown in there. Some of the people out there are like mountain hares: they just naturally sprint up and over this stuff with seemingly little effort. This always seems to be especially true when you see them descending rocky slopes at the end of races, with seemingly not a care in the world for their knees or quads. I’m more of a freight-train type of guy. I’m big. I start slow. And it takes me a long time to get rolling and really hit a groove. But once I do, it’s usually pretty dang hard to stop all that momentum. It’s just that the momentum takes time to build. Hence the full 9 1/2 months I gave myself to prep for this race.

But playing the long game of preparation well is actually one of the things I’m most proud of about this whole effort. As the Brendan Leonard quote above highlights, it takes a lot of miles run just to be able to try to do a hundred all at once. Preparation and planning are mandatory. And that takes up a ton of time.

Taking all of this into consideration, and realizing that A) I am getting old, B) I really didn’t want to get injured (because of the whole out of shape and getting old things), and C) the summer was going to be filled with lots of time away from the family while slogging myself up and down trails, I was intentional about starting the training early and ramping up slowly. My goal was to create a slow up and to the right sort of graph, starting with a shallow angle to begin with and then really steepening out at the end. Looking back on it, I pretty much completed this arc perfectly, which really made for an enjoyable, well-paced, and injury free year.

The most essential element to all this training was the long run. For months leading up to the race, it was a staple of my weekly plan. For two out of three weekends almost all year, I would dutifully wake up early on a Saturday or Sunday morning to go grind out the miles. But that was actually one of the more enjoyable parts of the whole experience. What you learn and experience on the long run is just as important as the physical preparedness it provides. If you are the kind of person who appreciates the journey over the destination, the long runs are some of the most enjoyable parts of the whole endeavor.

Anyway, with that in mind, I thought I’d share just a few memories from of my favorite long runs to prepare for the Bear. Looking back now, each effort was an essential part of the preparation in its own.

With all my big days behind me (not to mention the dozens and dozens of other short days, tempo runs, hills intervals, and other jogs in between), I felt ready to tackle the Bear by the time September rolled around. I had logged almost 1,000 miles exactly for the year, including 4 efforts of 30+ miles and one of 50+. It was a whole lot of work to get there. But by the time my taper started, I felt at peace with the whole thing.

This would become a major theme of the whole race. There is so much to be anxious about leading up to an effort like this. The sheer number of things that can go wrong or derail training is too many to count. But up to this point, pretty much everything had gone perfectly to plan. I’d hit all my milestones. I’d had amazing, fun outings all summer. I was injury free. And my body felt as strong as it literally ever had. So, I made a conscious effort to lean into trusting that all those good vibes would continue. It was tempting to give into the worry and anxiety of how it could all blow apart (as if the last few years haven’t shown us all that), but I really felt at peace and faith that it would go well.

At the end of the day, my prayer was just for two things. The first was that I would just have a sporting chance at the course. e.g., No fires, horrible smoke, torrential rains, heat waves, blizzards, nuclear bombs dropped by Russian dictators, etc. And the second was just for the strength to run the race. I’d put in all the prep, so now I just wanted to be able to rely on my effort to carry me through. It was time to see how it would pan out.

The rest of my race story is a testament to both of things coming through in spades. I’m not only grateful for how they both came together, but I am also proud to say I had faith beforehand to know that they would. That allowed me to really lean in an enjoy the final days and weeks leading up to my big dance with the bear.

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The Bear 100 Course Overview

“36 Hours of Indian Summer.” – Bear Website

The Bear is a point to point mountain course that runs from Logan, Utah to Fish Haven, Idaho. It essentially zig-zags its way on a northerly track through the spine of the Wasatch Range in northern Utah. It roughly parallels Highway 89 – the Logan Canyon Scenic Byway – the whole way through the range. All told, it is just under 100 miles and just over 22,000 vertical feet of gain. By my count, there are nine climbs over 1,000 feet, three climbs over 2,000 feet, and the opening ten miles gains almost 5,000 feet right off the bat. To finish it all off, the course saves both the steepest hill (by a long shot) and a massive 3,000′ descent for the final few miles. The majority is run on single track, with some sections of jeep roads thrown in as well. It begins at ~5,000 in elevation and tops out at just over 9,000 feet.

I didn’t know it when I signed up, but apparently this is one of the more difficult courses out there. I only came to realize this after multiple runners I talked to remarked, “Isn’t that one of the tougher races to do?” Apparently so.

But all those difficulties aside, the mountains that the course winds through are beautiful. We have spent a lot of time in southern Utah but getting to explore the northern parts of the Wasatch was a new experience for us. We found the mountains to be a wonderfully hilly, diverse, and beautiful stretch of country. This part of Utah felt sort of like a mix between the Rockies and Appalachians to me. It was bigger and more rugged than the Smokies, but with the sort of rolling green landscapes that were reminiscent of the mountains out east. At the same time, while this range was not as tall, steep, or high as the Colorado high country, it was unmistakably part of the Rockies. That was especially evident on the trails themselves, which felt every bit as rocky and rugged as anything along the front range. The leafy trees throughout were a nice change as well.

All of this was highlighted by the excellent trail and road networks throughout. The snaking route follows an intuitive path right through the range. It cleverly links up a dozen aid stations along the way, most of which are relatively easily accessible from the main highway that connects the start and the finish. Ample high quality jeep roads connect the rest. Overall, I found the entire thing to eminently runnable and just a fantastic place to explore on foot.

The only real wildcard was the weather. At the end of September, it seems just about any conditions can be in play. Based off of what others said about past race years, some were very hot, some were actively snowing, and smoke is an-all-too common concern this time of year in the American west. Another annoyance is the sandy trails that seem to be the rule when its been dry.

I’m grateful to report that our conditions were just about perfect. It rained hard two nights before the race, which made for a slightly damp, very firm set of trails all day. Perfect to cruise. The temps were just about ideal as well. Highs is the lower/mid 60’s in the day were met with lows down to about freezing at night. Apparently, this area has a phenomenon called ‘the sinks’ where inversions can create very cold temps in the lower valleys. We found this to be true and during the night aid stations were, by far, the coldest spots on the course. In fact, we always knew when we were about a mile out from one as, like clockwork, the temps seemed to drop 10 degrees or more before we arrived to greet our frozen crew. Overall, the weather was about ideal, as evidenced by the highest ever finishing percent for the race (75%).

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Race Report – The 2022 Bear 100 Endurance Run

Arrival in Utah & Kicking off the Bear

We caravanned as a family out to the race a few days before. We opted to take the longer, more scenic route through Colorado and Utah, with an overnight stop at Dinosaur National Monument along the way. As I mentioned, we had never really been to this part of the country, so driving through it was a real treat. Eventually arriving in Garden City Utah, we checked into our Airbnb the Thursday afternoon before the race. This homebase was strategically positioned near the finish line in order to make for easy access for our crew for the latter half of the race.

Speaking of crew, one of the things I knew I wanted to do for this race was create (as best as possible) a community vibe around the effort. I figure these races are such a high energy, cool community effort anyway, what better way to enjoy that than to create some for ourselves? Plus, it’s fun to rally people around a cause (even if it is a bit self-centered). Being smack-dab in the middle of Mormon country made it super easy to accommodate a big crew. Our shared Airbnb that slept up to 20 people was just a medium sized offering for the surrounding area. Apparently, this is Mormon vacation country, so many of the offerings could comfortably sleep 30, 35, or even 40+ people! Our group of 13 felt tiny by comparison.

After dropping the fam off in Garden City, I rendezvoused with Jason and we drove over to Logan. The plan was for he and I to go to check in for the race and then stay at a nearby hotel to prepare for the morning start.

After a restless night of final preparations and nervous triple checking of everything, I managed to eke out a decent night of sleep before waking up early the day-of. My amazing crew support started right off the bat, as Jason graciously woke up early to haul me off to the starting line. Classic nervous race energy filled the air. But it was a perfect morning. Time to run.

Section #1: Start – Right Hand Fork (mile 37)

As I mentioned, the race started out with the biggest climb of the whole day. No sooner had 6:00 am rolled around than we immediately embarked on the nearly 4,000 foot initial climb (with another 1,000′ one very soon after it). The only way to really get into the Wasatch is to go straight up, it seems. Such is Utah. But it turned out to be a really pleasant morning. I had known all along that things began this way, so there were no surprises. And the prospect of completing ~25% of the vertical gain in the first 10 miles was an encouraging one. Plus, everyone was fresh. I’ll take a tough effort right out of the gate any day.

After an opening mile on city streets the blacktop eventually gave way to singletrack. An extremely non-diverse conga-line of runners snaked their way up Dry Canyon. I chuckled to myself as I thought about Jason’s demographic commentary from the night before, There really is no better place in the world to find a bunch of upper middle class, 30-50 year old white people than an ultra marathon. Even more so for a Utah-based race. I just laughed to myself and dutifully accepted my place as one of them.

As expected, the snaking single track line made for a reasonable pace up the climb. After an hour or so the headlamps went away. Soon after that I saw two guys ahead of me high five one other, marking the end of the first big climb. I felt great. Maybe it was the fitness. Or the race energy. Or the low relative altitude. Whatever it was, I’m not sure I’ve ever had an easier 4,000′ of gain in my entire life. Now above the trees and with morning streaming in, views suddenly abounded.

By the time we reached the first major aid station at mile 20, I was feeling great. We had knocked out the first big hill and put a decent chunk of the course behind us. My only concern was my right knee. I have a old injury there that tends to flare up on fast, long downhill sections. 4,500′ of descent was plenty to get it inflamed. As we got closer and closer to the Leatham Hollow Aid Station, I was becoming pretty concerned this would grow into a major issue as the day wore on. I’d had a similar experience at the San Juan Solstice 50 a year prior. I was in no mood to have that issue repeat itself.

So, taking a lesson from the Solstice race, as well as the general ultra-marathoning wisdom to take care of any issues immediately, I stopped at Leatham Hollow to get it wrapped. An awesome volunteer named Craig and his daughter sat me in a chair and quickly got me all bandaged up. Whatever they did was borderline miraculous. By the time I left the aid station onto the nearby road, my knee was already feeling much better. In fact, it was pretty much a non-issue for the remainder of the day. I still can’t really believe it, but I am very thankful for it.

This is also a good reminder for me to shout out and thank all the many volunteers at the race. From top to bottom, this race easily had some of the best volunteers I’ve ever seen. My good experience at Leatham Hollow was just one of many fantastic interactions I had with volunteers all race long. Can’t say thank you enough to them!

I like to break up races into sections in my head beforehand. It helps me to mentally tackle all the miles and makes for nice ‘mini races’ in the middle of the main one. For the bear, Section #1 was from the starting line to the Right Hand Fork Aid station at mile 37. I knew these opening miles should go by quickly as the cool temps, race energy, and overall fitness would carry me through. They would also knock out a huge chunk of the vert, as this section contained two of the biggest three hills of the day. Mile 37 was the first time I’d get to see the crew, the end of the ‘first section’ of my day.

I’m happy to say that I felt fantastic descending into Right Hand Fork just before 2:00 pm. My legs felt good, my food and hydration were good, conditions and weather were perfect, and my knee was rebounding better than I could have ever hoped. Everything was ticking.

That made for an awesome reunion with the crew at Right Hand Fork. Because I had left the day prior, this was the first time I’d get to see the Stouts or my parents, so I was very much looking forward to taking a bit longer of a break here.

Section #2: Right Hand Fork (mile 37) – Franklin Basin (mile 52)

I felt awesome heading out of Right Hand Fork. The mini break was perfectly timed. I felt like a new man for the next few rolling miles. I was pacing ahead of my stretch goal of 28 hours and hadn’t hit a low yet.

It was also a very, very comforting feeling to know that I would have pacers and/or crew for almost all the remaining miles and aid stations. Like I said, I’ve never had support on a race like this. Just the mental encouragement and reassurance of not being alone was a very welcomed feeling. I knew it would be good to have them around, but I was very pleasantly surprised at how nice it was to look forward to seeing friendly faces every few miles to come. That was good a good thing too, as my first real low was soon to come.

The second biggest climb of the day was a 2,700′ effort from the Temple Fork (M45) to Tony Grove Aid Station (M52). I had mapped out and studied the distance, gain, and descent in between each aid station ahead of time, so I knew this was coming. But still, it really sucked. I think it was just a combination of all the miles starting to accumulate, the heat of the day, and just generally being a long hill. It was also one of those nerd-rage inducing hills that has 3 or 4 false summits, not to mention a grade that was infuriatingly too steep to really run, but too shallow to feel great about walking. Having never run any of the course before, I had no idea what to expect.

I nestled in behind two ladies running up it and tried to drag along with their effort as best I could. I think they thought I was a bit of a creeper though, since I wasn’t saying much, didn’t make much of an effort to pass, and was pretty much matching their pace exactly. In reality, my head was down and my mind was focused 100% on just trying to control my stomach, which had taken a turn for the worse. I popped some Tums and grunted along as the ladies eventually stepped aside to let me pass. The potential awkwardness of perpetually sticking too close to them propelled me up the rest of the seemingly unending hill. Ending at least 45 minutes after it should have (and 5 minutes after some guy at the gate declared “it’s all downhill from here”), we finally hit a steep descent of a final mile before reaching the Franklin Basin Aid Station. I made a conscious decision to try to push it on this stretch, hoping I’d rebound. And thankfully, I did. I ended up motoring into the next aid, taking advantage of the rapidly declining temps as the sun was setting. Another rendezvous with the whole crew was a super welcomed treat.

I left the Tony Grove Aid Station continuing to feel great about my lot in life. Over half the distance was done and roughly two thirds of the vert was completed. Moreover, I’d already made it through one low point of the race and rebounded nicely. Based on my experience pacing Ben and Jason, I knew that the ability to rebound from the lows was an expected, key part of having a good race. I’d made it through one now and was still crushing my stretch goal time. But as the sun slipped behind the peaks to the west, I knew another huge obstacle was in front of me: 12 hours through the night.

That began with a 10 mile stretch to the next aid station – Franklin Basin – before I picked up Jason. I don’t remember too much about this segment, except for the fact that I misread my map. Although I stayed on course, I incorrectly thought the next aid station was twice as far away on the map as it actually was. Given that this was a pretty long 10 mile march anyway, I became more and more agitated as it felt like it was taking forever to reach what I thought was the next aid. Especially since so much of it was downhill.

Thankfully, I synced up with a different duo of ladies which helped pass the time. Feeling much better this time around, I (hopefully) made a better impression as we chatted for a while in the dark. This was one of the few times all day I talked to folks. It’s not too uncommon to make friends on races like this or chat with the same group for miles at a time. But for whatever reason, that didn’t really happen to me on this race. Nothing prevented it from happening, I just usually found myself running alone or with my pacer instead of meeting new people. A bit of a bummer because it seemed like some awesome people we out on the course, but I guess it was nice to get all the social support from my crew instead.

Anyway, I eventually made it to the Franklin Basin Aid Station, which ended up being a crew favorite. It was big, loud, and full of energy. Everyone was still hyped at this time (around 9:00 pm) and it wasn’t too cold yet, so the hype was up. I always love aid stations like this, and it was a welcomed oasis compared to the lonely, dark miles preceding it (and which would follow).

Section #3: Franklin Basin (mile 62) > Beaver Creek Campground (mile 85)

The third ‘section’ of the race was the night stretch. All told, this was nearly 25 miles and four aid stations worth of chilly rambling through the woods. There aren’t many pictures from this section for obvious reasons. I’m not sure that they would be any good anyways. This section contained my other low for the race.

Overall, I still felt pretty ok, but there were some moments in the night that were pretty tough The steepest hill of the whole day so far came right after picking up Jason. It really drained my energy. I think I cussed more on this hill than at any other point combined. Nothing in particular really hurt all that much, but I was just feeling a sort of full body fatigue and exhaustion that one might expect from schlepping through the woods for 18+ hours. The hikes became slower, and I had a harder time keeping a good jog up on the downhills. Many were just too rocky and/or rolling to feel like I could get any kind of rhythm in place. Quite a few people passed me in here and I gave back some time.

I think the ultimate low might have been mile 76 at the Beaver Mountain Aid Station. This aid station is at a ski resort. So, runners could go inside and warm up and be surrounded by light. In some ways, I think this actually made things worse though. I was feeling tired and the absolute last thing I wanted to do was leave the warmth and goodness of the aid. I grunted some instructions to crew as they could tell I was feeling it. This was the first (and really only) aid station with crew where I was visibly smoked. But, once again drawing on past experiences from helping others, I knew that sitting around would only make it worse. I hauled myself up a full 10-15 minutes earlier than I would have wanted to and soldiered on once more into the night.

Thankfully, I had Jason. As expected, he was basically the perfect pacer for this section. As a runner himself who has done one of these, he seemed to know how to handle things perfectly. Sometimes he was super helpful by being chatty and giving me something to focus on. Sometimes he was silent and let me meander through the pain cave. All the time he was useful to make sure I didn’t stumble off course. Mostly though, he was immensely supportive by just being there. I guess you would have to ask him how I did on this section, but I felt like he got the worst of me for large portions of it – especially just before dawn. Sorry dood…

But whatever the case, having someone else around, and Jason in particular, was indescribably helpful. I can’t say thank you enough to him for all the support through the slowest, coldest, darkest, and most grumbly 24 hours of the race.

Section #4: Beaver Creek Campground (mile 85) > Finish Line (mile 100)

By the time we reached the Beaver Creek Campground, things were starting to turn around for three reasons. First, I knew I was close enough to finish. There was no way a measly 15 miles was going to stop me at this point. Second, the sun was rising. I knew this always made for an injection of energy. And third, I swapped Jason for Kelsey. This meant a whole new person to catch up with. All three of these precipitated a massive rebound that was about to happen.

Predictably, my spirits lifted considerably with the rising run. It is just such an amazing feeling to have the day come back on one of these races. Being out for a full 24 hours and then watching the sun rise for a second time is an experience you just can’t put into words. All I could keep thinking about was an old Aragorn quote from Lord of The Rings quote about dawn being the hope of men. That’s never felt truer than in the middle of a 100 mile effort.

Having Kelsey there helped everything as well. She was like her own little ray of sunshine that came along with the dawn. I’m not sure if she made an intentional point to be super talkative, or if it was just the excitement of the race, but almost immediately after picking her up I realized this was the chattiest I had ever seen her. At first, I was gasping to keep up, but soon I realized that this level of engaged conversation was exactly what the doctor had ordered. And what’s better, we found plenty of stuff to talk about that was not race related, which helped all the more. As the sun rose, I quickly found myself enjoying the conversation even more than the racing. Her energy and vibe were just the perfect, perfect compliments for where I was at in the race.

By the time we drew near to the final aid station (Ranger dip – mile 92), I was keen to blitz through it as quickly as possible. I was finally feeling good again. Really good. We were excited to meet up with the crew one last time before carrying on for the final lap. I was also excited to drop almost all our gear before making the long descent into the finish.

The finish line didn’t come easy. In fact, the final ~8 miles or so of the race are arguably some of the toughest of the whole course. And not just because of where they happen mileage-wise.

To start, there is an absolutely brutal 600′ climb as soon as you leave Ranger Dip. To be honest, I had been a bit underwhelmed (although certainly not disappointed) by most of the hills all day on the course. To this point, most of the ascents had been quite reasonable in terms of their steepness and rate of gain. In fact, I reflected that my final 50 mile effort to prepare for the race had not one, not two, but three distinct climbs which were each more challenging than any single segment on The Bear. Such is the nature of steep climbs at 12,000+ feet. But the final hill of The Bear made up for some of the other ascents in a big way.

I knew this was coming thanks to reading some old trip reports. Multiple folks commented on the brutally steep nature of this hill. And they were right. Switchbacks be damned, this final trail essentially went starlight up the mountain to gain 600 feet in what felt like less than a quarter mile. It felt like the 1,000′ climb on Pyramid it takes to finally reach the upper ridge. This was way, way steeper than anything else on the course so far. But to be honest, I kind of liked the sadistic nature of the whole thing. I marveled at its perfect placement as the last big kick in the gut before finally being done with all the vertical gain of the day. I also reflected that if someone was really struggling at this point, 92 miles into the race, this hill would be absolutely devastating.

Thankfully, I was prepared for this. And I was feeling really good. I got a major burst of energy as we started up. Knowing the finish line was so close – and that 600′ really isn’t all that much – I was able to power. I felt like I was able to draw on years and years of slogging up steep 14ers to propel me to the top. I also knew that a steep hill is good because the vert gets done and over with so quickly. Going up it was one of my highlights, simply because of the sheer determination and doggedness I used to knock it out.

With all the uphill finally out of the way, the course had just one final trick up its sleeve: that pesky 3,000′ foot descent to the finish line. Again, I mentally knew this was coming and I was well prepared for it. My quads were pretty shot but no worse than expected. And with beautiful views of the lake coming into focus, the sun shining, and my main goal time well within reach, I was able to pick it up for a strong finish. Finishing and not totally feeling like death is always a bonus for these ultras. So, I made sure to remember to enjoy the last miles down the rugged dirt trails and roads.

The last mile of the course was the best one of the entire route. It was on a perfectly graded, slightly downhill dirt road. I got an energy blast that only comes by being so close to the finish. I’m proud to say Kelsey and I cooked off the last mile in just over 10 minutes.

The finish line was about as sweet as they come. The whole setup and atmosphere of the finish was the perfect place to enjoy a well-deserved effort. I gave the race director Cody a big hug before embracing the rest of my crew.

I finished in a time of 28:53:09. This was pretty much spot on with my goals. My stretch goal had been to break 28 hours, but my main goal was to break 30 hours and to get the coveted Grizzly Belt Buckle (it turned to a black bear buckle after 30 hours). So, my time felt perfect. It was good enough for 97th place, which honestly was further back than I would have guessed. But there were some strong runners out there and a lot of them passed me on the final downhills. Kudos to them. The place didn’t matter much to me anyway. My goal for my first 100 was always to just race against myself and my personal goals. And I achieved that perfectly.

To be honest, the finish felt like less of a celebration of the race and more so a culmination of everything that had led up to it. Obviously, I was thrilled to have finished the Bear, but I was more so proud of the sense of satisfaction from all of the time, effort, blood, sweat and tears that gone into even being able to attempt to run it in the first place. Maybe that’s what’s so cool about these ultras. More than just about completing the race, they reflect the effort required to do so. Completing a hundred is a sort of “standing on the shoulders of giants” moment, where the ‘giants’ are all those many hours and miles that were required to even get to that point. Knowing what it takes to even tow the starting line at one of these, let alone finish, was a special feeling.

This was certainly my sentiment at the finish line. My belt buckle instantly became one of my most prized possessions. But not because of just the race. It was because of all that effort preceding the race which it represented. And that to me was about the sweetest feeling that could be.

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Parting Thoughts & Crew Thank Yous

Another overwhelming feeling at the finish was one of gratitude. There was so much to be thankful about. I was thankful the conditions had been so perfect. I was thankful to have finished and finished without injury. I was thankful to have met my goal time. I was thankful my knee held up, as did most of the rest of my body. I was thankful to not be running anymore. But there were a few groups I was especially thankful for.

The first was the organizers and volunteers at the race.  I really think the Bear was the best organized and most well put together race I’ve ever done. From top to bottom, virtually every single element of this race was pulled off flawlessly. The communications were excellent. The website was helpful (I must have visited it 100 times). The aid stations were all perfect. The course markings were without flaw. The volunteers were cheerful, helpful, and did a great job. The list goes on and on and on for how well run the race was.

But beyond all of that, I was just impressed by the overall vibe of the race. Everything was just super laid back and relaxed. I’ve been a part of some other races recently which gave off very different feelings. Some were super abrasive. Some took themselves way too seriously. And most races these days seem more keen on brow-beating people and being super ‘official’ vs. just pulling off a good experience. The Bear did an excellent job of hitting all the key details while simultaneously just being chill about the whole thing and letting people enjoy themselves. I’ve always felt that a key part of ultras is treating people like adults and accepting that a natural component of running long distances in the mountains is letting people have personal accountability for themselves. The San Juan Solstice gets that. And so does The Bear. Little wonder these are my favorite races of all time.

So, I’d like to say a big thank you to everyone involved. Pulling off a race like this is no small feat. I am so grateful to everyone who put it on for doing it so well.

The second group I was thankful for was my amazing crew. It can’t be said enough.

From the very beginning, one of my goals for this race was to draw other people in and hopefully create a memorable experience for everyone. Obviously part of that was selfish as I needed the help. But a much, much bigger desire I had was to bring people alongside the journey so we could all have an adventure together. My crew was simply exceptional from top to bottom. I never knew how reassuring and helpful a group like this could be. It really made all the difference and I’d be remiss if I didn’t thank them each individually for how the contributed.

Cougar…there’s not a single friend who I feel would be better equipped to handle the night shift. Cougar was amazing at rallying everyone and giving exactly what was needed for all the long night stops. Can’t thank him enough for taking charge on those and giving exactly what was needed there.

Sparks…he was just as competent as Cougar, but also so helpful in terms of organizing everyone during the day for all the little details: parking, timing, where to be, etc. He also brought me the chicken noodle soup the most, which honestly was the best I’ve ever eaten. And thank you for soloing with the kids as well so Kelsey could run!

Kelsey…she was the pick-me-up I never knew I needed from mile 85 to the finish. We’ve had some cool experiences together this year supporting one another’s races. I’m so thankful she was there to carry me home. Looking forward to returning the favor at some of her own races someday, which she’ll inevitably be signing up for soon.

Jason….the perfect man for the job to support the crappy night shift. Like I said, I’m pretty sure Jason got the worst of me, but that’s what this pacing thing is all about. So helpful also for the car shuttle and drop off the morning before. Having another runner there who just ‘gets it’ is so helpful, and I’m very thankful for it.

Mom…thank you for being so supportive on all the ‘behind the scenes’ duties of taking care of and watching the kiddos. This allowed Katie to be really dialed in and I’m so thankful they had grandma there to support them. It’s invaluable to have someone else help with kids when one half of the parenting duo can’t walk. 🙂

Dad…so thankful for all his little pearls of wisdom and advice at each aid station. They were all super helpful and very well received. Thanks to you and mom both for making the long car ride out, and for helping us on the drive back. A full road trip the day after a 100 is not exactly ideal, but the two cars made it work!

The Kiddos (Oscar, Walter, Franklin, Emma, and Audrey)…all of you were the best cheerers anyone could ask for! Seeing these guys hanging out and playing together at each aid station lifted my spirits each and every time. These guys were great!

Katie…the best and most favorite crew member of all time. What can I say? Your support, love, and care goes way beyond just this weekend. You were there to support my dream not just for the 100 miles, but for the 1,000. I could never be more thankful for that.

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Appendix: Aid Station to Aid Station Running Notes

I thought to include my detailed running notes regarding each stretch in between aid stations. I had a notepad on my phone with the distances, gain, and loss in between each. This was immensely helpful for each individual stretch. As mentioned previously, I made up some bigger sections as well, just to mentally help split it up. Anyway, these notes are mostly for my own future recollections. But maybe they will help someone else as well in the future too in terms of beta.

1. Start (0.0) > Logan Peak (10.32 miles, 4,855 up; 1,668 down): Easy start on blacktop for the first mile before hitting singletrack. Blacktop was surprisingly steep. I tried to position myself to be towards the front, but not too far, for the forthcoming singletrack. The climb up Dry Canyon was indeed up up up, but it still felt pretty moderate. Maybe it was the dark or the easy pace in single file, but it wasn’t too tough. Low temps made for a pleasant ascent. Surprising amount of rolling and downhill after the first 4,000′ of climb. Spent only 30-60 seconds at Logan Peak Aid for some water and a few quick snacks.
2. Logan Peak (10.5) > Leatham Hollow (8.89 miles, 740 up; 4,128 down): Quick rolling climbs before beginning the long descent. Descent was on a good trail and had some of the best sections of the entire course. Great singletrack through beautiful pines. Plenty of roots to catch a toe though. A legit 7 miles of downhill which went by very fast. Longer stop at Leatham Hollow to get leg wrapped.
3. Leatham Hollow (19.7) > Upper Richards (8.3 miles, 2,402 up; 62 down): Nice start for a mile or two on mostly a 2wd road eventually gave way to single track for the third biggest climb of the day – 2,400′ up to Upper Richards. Good gradient here with plenty of sections for jogging. Decent tree cover and shade from the narrow canyon. Narrowest of the day; my GPS bugged out here, which was the only time it happened all day. This was a big climb but didn’t feel too tiring. Excellent cheer crew of ladies at the aid which had great views above tree line. Quick stop at Upper Richards before moving along again.
4. Upper Richards (28) > Right Hand Fork (8.79 miles, 857 up; 2,813 down): Screaming fast downhill out of the aid on a steep but very manageable jeep road. Clocked my fastest mile of the entire race on this section: 8:48. This gave way to another climb on more easy 4wd roads above the trees. Good views without a cloud in the sky. Water stop at mile 32 from the super cute little girl working the nozzle. Eventually left the jeep road for a long descent amidst sparse forests into Right Hand Fork. I ran 3 miles of this fast and didn’t see a single other person. Second guessed myself until hitting the quick out an back that led to the aid. Amazing to see the crew and finally not be alone for the rest of the race. Excellent aid station energy all around.
5. Right Hand Fork (37) > Temple Fork (8.08 miles, 1,137 up; 875 down): Don’t remember too much of this section. Climb out of the gate on more trails and 4wd roads before going down and then hitting single track in the middle of a massive open pasture. Took a dump around mile 40 on top of a cowpie. Pretty beaver ponds in this section and continued to be surprisingly open with great views. Another water stop around mile 40, but it wasn’t too hot. Quick stop at Temple Fork solo since the crew didn’t have a pass.
6. Temple Fork (45) > Tony Grove (6.16 miles, 2,723 up; 571 down): Rough section thanks to second biggest climb of the day. Crossed the highway after Temple Fork then began the much too long ascent up. In another narrow-ish canyon that was very grown in. Good shade, but it still felt hot and stuffy in here. Lots of sections that could have been runnable, but mostly walked thanks to the tough climb. Seemed to go on forever with multiple false summits. Stomach sucked in here. Finally topped out and enjoyed the screaming fast descent into Tony Grove.
7. Tony Grove (52) > Franklin Basin (9.98 miles, 1,071 up; 2,322 down): Decent little climb out of the gate where it got much colder right at sunset. Bundled up a bit and then felt comfortable for the long flattish downhill to follow. Good trial in here, but man, this section just seemed to drag on and on. Lots of folks making better time than me in here, which felt surprising. Semi frustrating as looking at the map you knew you’d have to re-climb this entire section  on the other side of the ridge. This segment felt the longest of the day. Got totally dark en-route to Franklin Basin. Franklin Basin was ana awesome aid station though. Big, busy, and full of energy.
8. Franklin Basin (61.5) > Logan River (7.85 miles, 1,890 up; 1,477 down): Probably the most infuriating section of the day. The hill out of the aid seemed super steep and sucked a ton of energy. I remember being very pissed at it. Every time I thought it was over it just dragged on and on. Too many rollers and then the downhill was too steep and dark for super fast running. This was probably my least favorite section of the entire day. I have zero memory of the Logan River aid station.
9. Logan River (68.8) > Beaver Mountain (6.09 miles, 1,505 up; 1,327 down): More annoying rollers, but a much less steep pitch than the last segment. I think I felt a bit better, but was probably still nerd-raging in Jason’s mind. Minor possible hallucination on the big open downhill on the ascent. I remember the last mile being poorly marked and semi-confusing going into Beaver Mountain. Rough aid station as this was maybe my low point of the whole race. Nice and warm though. Overall, a pretty forgettable section.
10. Beaver Mountain (75.9) > Gibson Basin (5.23 miles; 1,285 up; 280 down): Missed a turn soon after leaving the aid which was thankfully caught by a runner behind us. Felt super stiff as we eventually got on a 4wd road up to Gibson Basin. It was an easy climb up the ever-increasing difficult road (for driving at least) but it sure seemed to drag. Maybe I was just moving slow. Pretty much on the road this entire segment. Gibson Basin was supposed to be a “minimal” aid station but Jason and I both remarked that it was one of the better ones out there. Well staffed and with a great vibe. Appreciated those guys.
11. Gibson Basin (81.3) > Beaver Creek CG (3.91 miles, 307 up; 789 down): Long flat section in open pasture on a split track. Lots of water and frozen ponds in here. Watch out for the mud! Then a quick climb into the trees before a nice descent into Beaver Creek CG. This one had the frozen pond crossing right before the aid which felt quite treacherous. Spirits lifted considerably as I said goodbye to Jason and hello to Kelsey.
12. Beaver Creek CG (85.6) > Ranger Dip (6.85 miles, 1,283 up; 663 down): I don’t remember much about this climb, but probably because I was enjoying the chat with Kelsey. I think I thought it was a distinct single hill but it had a decent amount of rolling at the top. Sun came up which only helped a little as I had a hard time figuring out where the top was. I remember nice open glades up high with excellent morning views. Good descent into the aid to get ready for the final stretch. Good final aid station which wasn’t much appreciated because we moved fast. Dropped all the crap and kept moving quick!
13. Ranger Dip (92.2) > Finish (6.67 miles, 741 up; 3,088 down): The first hill out of the aid was absolutely savage. Straight up. But I felt as strong as ever on the ascent and housed it. Maybe my proudest moment of the race. Once the vert was won, a few surprisingly flattish and rolling miles before finally getting to the downhill proper. The downhill was steep and rocky, but it could have been worse. I feel like it got better and better as we descended. Excellent views of the lake and the finish area. Final mile was the most runnable of the whole course along the excellent 2wd dirt road. Amazing spread out finish so every runner got his or her own moment in the sun.