Of Cinnamon Rolls, The Krar Factor, and European Attire: The Rut Report

Rob Krar had just won his 3^rd top tier 100 of the year that morning, and several hundred miles north, I may have been having a Krar hallucination.  20-some miles into The Rut 50k, it looked like Rob Krar was now chasing me, and not only had he made excellent time on the drive, but he’d shaven too, and gotten a haircut.  Maybe aged a few years, as well.  He was gaining ground on a flat section, and I said, “Hey, man, what’s your name?” as he caught up to me.  I had to find out who this guy was.

             

   “Jeff.”

                

“That’s my name, too.  I’m Jeff Rome.”

                

“I’m Jeff Krar, Rob’s older brother.”

               

  And that was precisely when the running started to hurt.

                

This was going to be a hard finish.  This was The Rut weekend, and I was getting what I came for (namely, unresponsive legs, heated competition, a bruised shin, GI distress and sleep deprivation).  It’s worth noting that “rut,” besides referring to mammalian reproduction, can also mean getting stuck, and being unable to change one’s ways to something more productive.  Both seem appropriate.  After the race, I certainly felt near bed ridden for a day, unable to do much more than watch 90s B-movies and eat ice cream.



                     
                                                                Apt recovery

                      

                                              The VK (aka the Hunchback 5k)

Friday—Europeans dress (and race) well—Almost Staying with a (recovering) pro—the Lone Peak VK:

On Friday morning, I carpooled down to Big Sky with a couple other folks (Alex Nichols, notably), and found the scene to be much more calm than expected.  Things only began to have a serious impression when I noticed some guys running fast hill repeats on the first section of the Vertical K course.  I really didn’t want to run yet, but I decided to check out the first part of the course anyhow—time to kill, and maybe a chance to see some of my heroes.  In retrospect, despite not spotting Kilian and proclaiming my complete admiration for everything he does, it was good to see the beginning of the course.  It was totally runnable, and much flatter than expected, perfect for a crazy fast start for all the guys wanting to be in Kilian’s sphere of greatness, if only for a little while.  I would not be one of them.

               When the race started, then, I let a few guys run their legs out on the first part, knowing that I could make up ground when the course got steep.  I felt relaxed, and settled into a comfortable pace behind Brendan Halpin for a while.  Partway up, one guy passed us both, cutting a switchback, and I was glad to see no one else follow suit.  In fact, Brendan yelled, “That’s too Euro!”  I’m not sure if the runner was a Euro or not (he wasn’t color coordinated, so was likely an American).

                                         


                                        

                I’m not sure when I started passing folks, but I think it was around when I saw a contingent of Missoula spectators cheering me on.  There were so many amazing people out on the course!  Kevin Twidwell, Kristina and Drew Pattison, John Hart, Allison Onstad, Seth Swanson (not to mention other elite runners Geoff Roes, Anna Frost, Greg Vollet)—I know there are others I’m missing, but it felt like Missoula’s trail runners were out en masse, and it pushed me on.  I left Brendan behind, passed Mr. Switchback cutter, and charged ahead with Craig Hertz, who would go on to win Saturday’s 12k, following.  He had a very bright orange shirt, helpful for keeping track of his distance in my peripherals. 

                Then I heard breathing getting closer, and while on a divergent path scrambling up the rocks, I noticed that I wasn’t being hunted by Craig, but by someone I’d only seen on the interweb.  Philipp Reiter, of Salomon, was making a move.  I tried to stick with him, but lost ground definitively in the last couple hundred feet, and had to relent.  Kilian and Emelie were cheering Philipp on, and he seemed to carry their spirit with him, not only putting a gap on me but nearly catching Utah’s John Tribbia, the current leader in the US VK Skyrunning series.  Pursuing him, however, allowed me to put a comfortable gap on Craig and have a no pressure finish for 9^th place.

                                
                                 Chasing Philipp, more like watching him slowly catch the next guy
                                                              (Credit: Myke Hermsmeyer)

                Tim Brooker greeted me at the finish line, and confirmed that yes, I was the top Montanan.  I was out of breath, and a little cold, but glad that I was able to represent Montana well in the VK, finishing ninth, and less than a minute behind the current Skyrunning VK World Series leader, Nadir Maguet.  On the way down from the mountain, I was lucky enough to share a tram with Kilian Jornet, Emelie Forsberg, Rickey Gates, Philipp Reiter, and top Missoulian masters runner John Fiore, among others.  This was a dream!

                              
                 If you look closely at the reflection, I bet you can make out Kilian's giant calves
                                                               (picture taken in tram)

                I didn’t stick around for long, however, and drove back to Bozeman to spend less time at altitude, and grab a bunch of cinnamon rolls (5, of which three were eaten that day, each fist sized).  I stayed at fellow mountain runner Minde Erickson’s place (Thank you Minde!  And thanks for being out at the race!), which allowed me to get away from the race scene for a bit, relax, catch up with Minde (who was signed up for The Rut but didn’t race due to an upcoming muscle biopsy), and follow Run Rabbit Run 100 as Nikki Kimball slowly moved up the field, overcoming a 20+ minute deficit to put over an hour on the rest of the women’s field. 

Recovery food

              

  Saturday—On Being Conservative vs. Slow—Chased by a Krar—The Rut 50k:

3 AM never feels not-ungodly early.  I tried to get up early so that my body would be awake by the 6 AM start, and had a full breakfast of bacon, eggs, pancakes, a banana and a croissant, which may well be the most I’ve eaten before any race.  This was it, this was the big day, and I was yawning every few minutes, listening to Beck on the way down.  I never really felt awake before the race, despite having a cup of coffee, but figured I didn’t need to be awake until the racing actually started a few hours later, when I got to the talus field.

The start was a rush.  Runners were amped, and just like yesterday I let a lot of folks go out ahead of me, starting somewhere between 30^th and 60^th place (I have no idea, but it wasn’t near the front).  I started passing people, trying to find a rhythm that felt good, and pretty soon heard Frosty’s New Zealand accent, saying she couldn’t feel her nose (it was 26 degrees), and recognized Emelie’s voice in the mix as well.  I figured that, even if these women were slower than me, it wasn’t by much, and they were far more experienced racers, so I should go with experience over speed for the first part of the race (and who wouldn’t want to run with Emelie and Anna?). 
               
                 
                                     Sunrise with Emelie.  Pretty damn great.

This patience served me well for the next few hours.  I tried not to think of racing, but rather just enjoyed the morning, even chatting with other runners a bit before I passed them.  I was making decent time, but kept my pace at a level I could enjoy, and still I was passing folks every few minutes.  As I moved up the field, runners became a little harder to pass, and became a little more spread out, but I told myself to hold my energy and not to worry about making any passes definitive, but rather to slowly and firmly go from one runner to the next, never pushing or surging. 

About an hour after I had last heard Emelie chit chatting behind me, I came upon a group of four at the beginning of the first talus field and started to wake up a bit and feel really good.  We hiked up to Headwaters Ridge at an easy pace, and I just focused on not wasting energy.  Some of the runners ahead of me were placing their feet poorly, and sliding down a bit, or stepping on loose rocks, so I used this climb as a recovery.  There would be plenty of racing later on, I figured. 

                  
                                                            In the fun stuff!
                                                  (credit Myke Hermsmeyer)

The group slowly spread out, and on the service road below Challenger I found myself unable to pass someone for the first time, but we were gaining ground on other runners.  I found out later that I was running with Adam Campbell, who had a great surge in the second half, moving up to 12^th place.  Pursuing Adam soon had me catching up to Oscar Casal Mir, who seemed to be having a rough patch.  Shortly after, on the out and back up to the Tram Dock, other runners with rough patches came into view, just as some of the top contenders were flying down.  It seems I had already missed the top 5 go through but saw Matty Shryock in 6^th, pursued by Jason Delaney, Dan Kraft, Nick Elson, Catlow Shipek, Fulvio Dapit, Rickey Gates and Jeremy Wolfe. 

                                 
                                          Approaching the bottom of Bonecrusher!

I came upon Luke Nelson and Jimmy Grant them just before Tram Dock, a little surprised to see them so early in the race.  They ended up running the end of the course together, and I’m sure they were putting much less pressure on each other than the push I got from the next runner I passed, Jeff Krar.  Halfway up Bonecrusher, I passed Jeff and felt that I could probably put a good gap on him since I do well on steep.  Right as I left the Lone Peak aid station, he was already there.  “Okay,” I thought, “he can’t be that great on talus, I’ll put a gap on him on the descent.”  And when I got to the bottom of the hill and started traversing the first boulder field, I still heard him not far behind, skirting down the rocks.  And at the next service road, with a short and steep climb at the beginning, I hustled to get atop the first hill before he popped out of the trees, maybe tricking him into thinking I had made a large gap.  And right before the crest, there he was down below, still just a minute behind. 

                
                                                        Summit of Lone Peak
                                                   (credit Myke Hermsmeyer)

This guy would not let go.  At the time, I had no idea who he was.  When he caught up to me on a flat section, we chatted a bit, and I learned that he was Rob Krar’s brother.  I was running with one of the closest genetically related people to the best ultrarunner in the states.  The weather was getting warm, the technical sections were done, and I had a Krar on my heels.  These last eight miles were going to be a little less fun, with a little more hurt.  If he had had a beard, I’m sure I’d have given up right there.

When was Jeff Krar going to start running 5 minute pace and drop me?  For a while on downhill sections I would try to run at a slightly slower pace, waiting for him to make a move and ready to kick it into a higher gear, but he just stayed steady with me.  I let myself run a little easier, afraid that I’d need an extra reserve of energy for the last few miles, just waiting for Krar to give a kick.

                             
                                     Climbing up Andesite, Jeff Krar behind

Rounding the last turn to the Andesite Aid Station, I spotted Jeremy Wolfe just as he darted away, less than 3 minutes ahead.  Yet, with less than 5 miles to go, it seemed a hard gap to close.  And arriving at Andesite, I saw no one but the relentless Krar behind me—this was just a two man race for us.  I tried surging a bit, hoping that he wouldn’t follow suit, but each surge was met step for step or built only a marginable gap that Krar then closed within minutes.  Sure enough, Krar kept the pursuit going well past the last aid, no more than 5 seconds behind after I pushed hard up the last hill of the course.

We had been within a minute of each other for over two hours, and with less than a mile to go, we decided to just finish together, stride for stride.  I was relieved to not have to try and outkick Krar, and happy to have had him as motivation for the last 12 miles or so, but mentally exhausted from being pursued for so long.  His brother, Rob, had been doing the same thing for the first several hours of RRR100 just the day before—pursuing, waiting, just wearing down his opponents for a chance to make a dominant move.  I was sure for the longest time that the same would happen to me, until the last mile when we decided to finish together. 

                

Tuesday: Mile time trial—Overanalyzing the race

                Eric Hoberg was several strides ahead of me, building a gap, and I was pushing hard for a mile PR (which was an unashamedly poor 5:19 for me).  If I could get a PR, I figured, then I could have run Saturday’s race faster.  Courtney was calling out the time as I crossed the line.  “5:12”.  Even adding on two seconds for the extra distance of a real mile, this still left me 5 seconds below my PR.  Shit.  I had never been so unhappy about a personal best.  Had I left too much on the race course? 

                Going out slow was smart, but it may have been too safe of a race for me to reach my absolute best on the Rut 50k course.  This means I’m coming back next year, intent on finding that perfect line between pushing my limits and staying in control.  I’ll be ready to push harder, not afraid to have solid runners behind me, shooting for 5:xx.  This year’s race was really fun, but it was almost too controlled and safe, and I definitely spent too much time chit chatting in the first half for it to feel like a solid effort.  I’m happy with my time, since it seems like the course was a bit over 30 minutes slower, yet I only slowed down 18 minutes from last year.  And I’m already looking forward to next year, where I’ll hopefully be able to fine tune this race some more and cut off another good chunk of time.  

And next year, this will happen.  Post race GI issues prevented it this year.  

Not a great suit for GI distress.