Well, what can you say when a race goes so horrible. We went to Pocatello 3 weeks ago to pre-run the Pocatello 50 course. It is a fantastic course, one of the hardest 50 milers in the country. For 1, it is closer to 54 miles, then add in the ~14,000' of climbing and you have a tough race. We were ready. We were both looking at this as a great kick-off to race season with Emily running San Juan Solstice (50 miler) 3 weeks later and Chad running Big Horn 100 3 weeks later.
Race day forecast was 40-50F and 35% chance of rain. Perfect running weather. Shorts, sleeveless shirt, and arm warmers. We didn't even think a jacket was necessary. The 5:30 AM temperatures were quite good, mid to high 30's. There was a breeze, so I decided a better throw in an extremely light jacket (think tissue paper - the entire jacket weighs 3 oz). The race started out fast. We started out at 7:30 minute miles approaching the trail and ran the first climb at under 9 minute miles. A light drizzle started about 20 minutes into the race. Nothing big, not even enough to put on a jacket. By 60 minutes in, the rain had turned to sleet; it was definitely time for the jacket as we were not soaked. Thinking that the weather forecast was correct, this would be a short rain and still be great racing weather. The rain only picked up. The descent into the first aid station at mile 9 was as slippery as ice. OK, this is going to be a tough race. After the first aid station, you have a short climb until you leave the trail and go 'cross country', literally climbing straight up a ridge through rock, sage, and cactus. By this time, the temperatures had dropped to below freezing, winds had picked up to 30 mph with much higher gusts, and it was outright blizzard conditions with less than 100' visibility. OK, this is getting dangerous. Thank goodness for the jacket, too bad it wasn't a little heavier and accomplice with a hat and decent gloves. The top of Wild Mountain was treacherous (doing the math, this is a sub 0F wind chill - remember - we are in shorts, sleeveless shirts, and 3oz jackets). Snow covered the ground, flags were buried or blown away, and the snow was pelting so hard it felt like our legs and faces were being sand blasted. Head down, and suffer through for the 1 miles+ until we got off the ridge. By the time we got off the ridge, our fingers and toes were frozen. Another big, slippery descent took us to the 17 mile aid station.
Out of the aid station was a long climb back up into the blizzard conditions. It was a long climb getting wetter and colder as we climbed. Reaching the top, we had a long traverse into the wind. By this time I was luckily with my training partner/friend Suzanne and another racer (John). We stuck together, often huddled together crossing the ridge. By this time none of us had any use of our frozen fingers and our feet weren't much better off. 2 hours later, we reached the mile 26 aid station to learn the race had been cancelled. Emily had left the 17 mile aid station only to be turned around 2.5 miles later having to return to the aid station - race over. Suzanne and I were not as lucky. At mile 26, neither of us were in good condition. The fantastic aid station crew got warm liquids into us, attempted to warm us, and then reminded us that we had a 6.5 mile run to actually get out of the mountains to a road. As we left the aid station, soaking, cold, and still hungry, we dug deep for what little strength and motivation we had to keep running to mile 32. As we are running, all we could think of was the other runners in much worse shape than we were and worrying about Emily, not knowing she had been turned around and was already dry and semi-warm and worrying about us. We took out time running out and had a welcome site 100 meters from the aid station to see Emily walking up the trail.
Our group was all safe and off the mountain. Unfortunately, there were still 20 runners unaccounted for. The race directors were coordinating search and rescue and other volunteers and within 2 hours had all racers accounted for. Once we got back to the finish line, we got into dry cloths, ate some food, throw our wet gear in the car and headed home. It was several hours before feeling returned to my feet and hands, but we did eventually thaw out.
The race turned out to be a race director’s nightmare. We both hope we don’t encounter this with the Powder Keg. Through the whole ordeal, Jared and Ryan (the RDs) handled everything very well. Communication was good, decisions were made quickly and intelligently, and in the end, no one was injured. There was also a great effort by fellow racers. When conditions turned bad on Wild Mountain, numerous racers abandoned their own race to help those in trouble.
We look forward to the 2011 Pocatello 50.
For more details about the Pocatello 50, see there web site.