High Lonesome ‘24
Contemplation.
Doubt and Determination.
I probably should not have even started the race. At least that is something I thought so many times during the High Lonesome 100 in July of 2024. The High Lonesome is a serious 100 mile run held in thin air of the Sawatch Mountains of Colorado. The race has over 23,000 feet of climbing and an average altitude over 10,000 feet. It is hard in all the ways I generally appreciate; big climbs, technical trails, and thin, thin air. Of course, it is also a 100 mile foot race. Running that distance, on any surface is hard, but when laid over mountain passes and deep in valleys, it moves to the next level.
In the summer of 2023 I was given the incredible opportunity to pace my dear friend Blair Speed at her first 100 mile run at High Lonesome. It was a tremendous gift to share the experience with Blair and feel of the magic that the race has to offer. So much could be written about that experience, and maybe someday I will, but for now it is sufficient to say that it changed me profoundly. It planted a seed that rapidly grew in to a strong desire to experience the entire course personally. As soon as I could I entered the lottery for the race. Frankly, I had very little hope of getting in to the race as I have shit luck with running lotteries (ten years for Hardrock, and so many fails at the Barkley Marathons). The race livestreamed the lottery and out of optimism I tuned in and listened to name after name be drawn, and with two names left to be called, I was competely shocked to hear my name come over the computer speakers. I could hardly believe it, on first try I was selected to experience the HiLo!
The months leading up to the race have been some of the busiest months of my life. It was wild and often overwhelming as years of work on various projects all seemed to coalesce in to an incredible frenzy at the same time. I taught several wilderness medicine and Risk Management courses for my business Alpine Endurance Medicine, co-directed Scout Mountain Ultras with my partner Tanae, created and ran the Pocatello Round, and also continued to work essentially full time as a Physician Assistant. It was wild and what felt like much sooner than expected, we were packing the van to drive to Colorado for the race. I had gotten training in, and some really great long runs, but it had also been a bit less focused than in the past. My goal and intention for the race to simply open my heart and experience what the mountains and course would share. Time or pace goals where not my focus, I wanted to take a zen approach to the race. To be in the moment without worry or regard for the miles ran or yet to cover. Overall, I wanted to be open to feel with my body and soul every mile of the course. Little did I know beforehand about how deeply and how much I would feel.
My plan for High Lonesome was to have Tanae and the kids be my crew and to run without pacers. In recent efforts I felt I had properly tortured pacers as I struggled through challenges and determined that this one I would take that on my own. Once the van was packed we headed to Colorado excited for a summer road trip and the adventure that lie ahead. We arrived in Buenavista, CO very late the Wednesday night before the race. Weary from the drive we slept in, had a casual breakfast and the rest of the morning was spent finalizing drop bags, reviewing the crew plan, and discussing logistics. Early afternoon we went to the High School and checked in for the race, washed shoes in the Toad Bath, dropped of the drop bags, and bumped in to several friends that we hadn’t seen in quite a while. With a few hours before the pre-race meeting we went in to town to check out local businesses and grab some lunch. It may seem excessive to go in to the following details, but stick with me, they matter. For lunch we ended up at Simple Eatery. The menu looked great and it offered enough variety for the family to be content. I ordered the Pork Banh Mi Ni sandwich and found it to be quite tasty. After we all finished eating we did a bit more wandering through town before heading back to the high school for the pre-race meeting.
The meeting was well done and very thorough, and as it neared its conclusion I started to feel weird. It started with a flash of heat, a cold sweat, and then the beginnings of what felt like a migraine. I’ve suffered from very debilitating migraines since a head injury from a rock climbing accident as a teenager. They are few and far between but completely wreck me. When we left the meeting I felt nauseous and disconnected, not at all what I would have wanted to feel on the eve of such a tremendous physical challenge. When we got back to the campsite at the start/finish area of the race I spent the rest of the evening dry heaving, head pounding, and alternating hot flashes and cold sweats. Eating was out of the question and small sips of water and electrolyte drinks were immediately rejected by my stomach and came right back out. I did manage to get my kit together for the morning and curled up on the bed in the van for a sleepless night tormented by the body wracking dry heaves and sweats.
When my alarm went off at 4:30 am I was wide awake. There had been a couple hours since the last dry heave and I prepared a little oatmeal to see if it would stay. A single packet of Quaker instant oatmeal stayed down, and a half hour before the start I sipped a Red Bull. Internally I questioned whether I should even start, I felt weak and shaky and very uncertain in my ability to cover the distance. Externally I smiled and pretended like everything was fine and it was going to be a great day. Tanae and the kids were the only ones that knew the perilousness of my situation.
Friends who are family at the start of High Lonesome.
The gun went off and my body seemed to go on autopilot. I settled in with the lead group, running much faster than I anticipated possible given the circumstances. Frankly the first 7 miles to the first aid station went to exactly as I visualized they would, but as I approached the aid station my guts gurgled and an urgent visit to the porta potty was required. The short stay in the bathroom was an explosive but brief experience and I was able to get back on the trail quickly. The downward spiral began with the bathroom break continued as I worked my way up the climb to Antero. Initially bloating bloomed in my abdomen, my legs went flat and got heavy, runner after runner passed, two more visits to the trees lightened my physical load, but did nothing to improve my state which continued to decline. Knowing that I had to keep moving I forced a shuffle here and there, but mostly walked up the climb. At the top, when things leveled off, I tried running against now my abdomen had become very full and painful. The bouncing with running caused pain. The pace continued to slow, now now on the descent to the Antero Aid station. The slow downhill walk led to droves of runners passing me, most offering encouragement and help. At the aid station I tried to force in some calories, but they only increased the pain. After several minutes of fruitless trouble shooting I got up and continued to walk downhill.
Slowing walking above Antero
Frustration built. I knew I could do better and to be moving at 30 minute miles on a downhill road sucked. A couple miles out of the aid station, out of nowhere, the contents of my stomach decided that they wanted to be on the outside and it was happening now. A wave of vomiting hit so fast and so hard that it dropped me to my knees in a violent purge. Black evil appearing vomit covered the rocks in front of me in a copious amount that I found quite surprising. Amongst the wreckage were whole, undigested pieces of the lunch from the day before. Fortunately for me there was a stream crossing the road just down from where the exorcism had occurred and I was able to clean up and cool off. I leaned in to the concept of puke and rally and immediately took a gel, a drink and started running. The relief of pressure felt so much better, and for a while I was able to eat and run. When I went through St. Elmo aid station I was able to eat real food, and top of my hydration for the next leg.
Coming in to the race I committed to practice unattachment and set no specific time or performance goals. Rather, I decided my objective was to experience whatever came at me with positivity and persistance. I didn't feel upset about my position in the field of runners, actually I really enjoyed this section. I caught many runners who had seen me looking like death, and began to cross paths with the leaders as the flew by on the return trip over Laws pass. Meeting Tanae and Anders at Cottonwood was a huge boost, as well as being able to exchange a few words with Caleb, the race director. I took time at the aid station to do all I could to get my stomach online and refuel as much as possible.
Anders stoked, me something else.
When I left, I felt better and was able to move better. Top end speed was missing, and I was riding waves of energy following a gel or snack, which quickly faded to a grind. I understood that my body was running on empty and progress would depend on ongoing calorie consumption. There were several beautiful interactions with other runners as I interacted with folks near the back of the pack which to me, was a huge inspiration. It was challenging to put in enough fuel to keep the pace moving and this seemed to get more difficult as I went through St. Elmo II and Tincup.
A moment of profound joy on Laws Pass as the interactions with other runners filled my soul.
As I climbed out of Tincup my stomach began to protest again, a couple of episodes of vomiting and a bunch of slow uphill grinding did eventually put me on the top of the climb and working my way down the descent. I was able to sneak in a few chews and with that little fuel was able to do something that looked kind of like running down to the aid station. Hancock was another episode of disaster management trying to get more fuel in. Tanae, Bryn, Chloe and Anders were all there to help and the legendary Clare Gallagher was also there to give share some magic, laughs, and encouragement.
Clare telling me that the magic would happen if I would just eat.
New to me food cravings were popping up and I left the aid station with an apple and a nectarine in addition to the usual fuel. The new foods tasted so good, but only lasted in my stomach for a few minutes before more vomiting. Darkness settled in both physically and emotionally. I struggled to hold on to a positive attitude as I tried fruitlessly to get the stomach back. At the Lost Wonder Aid Station I spent 40 minutes working with the amazing volunteers there trying to get the stomach reset. Eventually I got in soup, pizza, chips and some soda. I stood up encouraged, and headed out of the aid station towards the divide. Less than 100 feet out of the aid station another episode of violent vomiting dropped me my knees again once again completely emptying the system. The wonderful woman that had been helping me walked out to me with a napkin, I wiped off my face and said with a smile, “I guess I’ll be doing the rest of this on an empty stomach”. She smiled back, chuckled a “good luck” and watch me trot off in the dark.
During the experience pacing Blair, this section from Lost Wonder up the Divide was a magical experience. She was expanding the pain cave as we time traveled through the night. As we ascended we could see the headlamps of runners ahead that appeared to flow directly in to the night sky joining the stars. We felt the magic even deeper than what we saw. I found myself having a very similar experience during my personal effort. I expanded my understanding of hard as I continued to hike and run fueled by cheeking one hi-chew at a time. The stars engulfed me and a sort of transcendence occurred that became a third person view of myself, watching the cone of light climb and traverse the high country of the High Lonesome course. I passed some runners, some runners passed me, none joined me. This was an experience to have alone. When I finally drug myself in to the Purgatory Aid Station my mental state was fractured, but silly. I giggled with Luke Jay and Nash Mader as they raged to Punk Rock and tried to help me reboot the system. Eventually, I left the aid station with Jon Davis (who was doing the mind blowingly difficult Hard Rock High Lonesome Double —the Hard Lonesome). Together with his pacer the three of us shuffled along to the Monarch Aid Station and our awaiting crews.
A popsicle, saltines and broth. Just before sunrise at Monarch.
After a tune-up and some sleep deprived time with the family at Monarch, I headed out determined to complete the loop. I tried to imagine opening my soul to the mountains around me allowing wild energy to refill me when my stomach continued to rebel. I tried running when I could, and accepted walking with purpose when I couldn’t. The sun came up and a new day of challenges with it. I tried hash browns at Fooses. which tasted pretty good both going in and coming back out. Sips of water and one cheeked gummy bear at a time kept me crawling my way along. At one point, just after crossing the highway, a wave of doubt about finishing crashed over me. It was the first time in the race that it seemed that I would fail. I sat for a few minutes considering calling Tanae and having her come pick me up. As I sat immersed in a cocktail of powerful emotions a Raven flew over and landed just up the trail. Tears poured out. A few soft caws from the Raven and it flew off in the direction I needed to go. The universe had sent a nudge. My day wasn’t over yet. I stood up, changed the playlist and started running. I didn’t try to eat, I just ran. When I went through the Shavano Aid Station, I was able to grab a gel, and it stayed down. Maybe the lower elevation was at play, maybe the new day, maybe time, who knows but my stomach seemed to now be ready to accept food.
Blanks, digging deep for the rally to come.
At Blanks the family was there, I had a popsicle, ate a bit of food, and left with bolstered sense of purpose. It was there that I put on a favorite punk rock playlist and feeling the music pulse through me, I ran. I ran and the more I ran the better I felt. Food starting to go in, and cautiously I consumed gels, blocks, Oreos, gummy bears, and come chips. I felt tired, sore, and better than I had since the climb out of Tincup 45 miles before, maybe the best I had felt all day. I came in to Raspberry II sooner than was expected and after a very quick stop to refill water I left the aid station with an unplanned pacer, my daughter Bryn. Bryn is 17, she is a talented mountain biker and skier, and without hesitation jumped in to run the final 7 miles with me. Words seem to fail to describe what I felt to be out there running the final miles of the race with Bryn. Julia Gumphert joined in for the section as well. This combination of new energy from the pacers with the nearing end of the run filled me with joy in the final miles. We ran as much as we could, we laughed at the absurdity of ultra running and the beauty of chosen suffering. In a strange twist, as we turned in to the field for the final steps of the race, I yearned for the experience to last just a little longer. I little more time with Bryn, a little more time fully emotional exposed since the layers of ego had been fully stripped my the miles, a little more time to feel deeply.
Bryn and I on the final stretch.
A smile bloomed across my face as I ran under the arch and in to the arms of Caleb, the Race Director, concluding the physical portion of High Lonesome. Deep joy of not having quit, of shared challenge, of love for wild places and curiousity of the edge of self, flowed out of me. More tears. Hugs. Knowing Smiles. I limped away from the finish line supported by loved ones.
Caleba Efta and the Crew at High Lonesome know how to curate a transcendent experience. So grateful for them.
High Lonesome was my slowest 100 mile race that I have completed. It was also deeply meaningful. A lesson in persistence and curiosity. I have continued to contemplate and meditate on the experience and continue to draw more learnings and growth now over a month after finishing. As I mentioned early in this writing, at some point I hope to find the words to more accurately or deeply explain the emotional and spiritual experience that HiLo was for me, but currently I can feel it but cannot yet express it. With time perhaps that will be possible, or maybe next time we cross paths you will be able to feel it as we hug or look into each other’s eyes, as it that human connection has proven to me to be a way to share the undescribable. Until then, stay curious and stay persistent.
