Why Finish the Bighorn 100?
- Shannon Howell
- Jun 19, 2019
- 8 min read
This has been months in the making.
My 41st year goal is to complete two 100's out west.
My coach believes in me.
My friends believe in me.
I am no stranger to adversity.
My family is waiting to find out that I made it to the finish line.
I didn't come to Wyoming, to the Bighorn Mountain Wild and Scenic Trail Run, to go home without a buckle.
I'm lying down in a super comfortable bed in my hotel room, thinking back over the past 48 hours. The Godfather marathon is on AMC. Perfect, because I don't plan on moving out of this bed for a few hours. I'm having a hard time moving my legs, and this morning's breakfast, although bland, isn't sitting too well in my stomach. I would really like to have a decent dinner tonight, so I hope this passes. I guess I'll start thinking about a race report.
"I'm gonna make him an offer he can't refuse." - Don Vito Corleone
It all started with a few friends who were trying to figure out what race to run, since we weren't chosen in the Western States lottery. The Bighorn 100 seemed to fit all the criteria for an epic experience out west. The price was right, the scenery looked top notch, plane tickets were reasonable, and our friend Marty was able to get us free rooms in Sheridan with his points. Boom. Decision made.
I arrived in Casper, WY a couple days prior to race day. I lived in Casper as a little girl, so it was neat to be back after all these years. Marty and Sergio arrived the day before, so they drove down from Sheridan to pick me up from the airport. An events list was put together for runners coming into town, so between Wednesday evening and Thursday, we enjoyed some of the suggested things to do. We picked up our packets on Thursday, and found out that this race really gives much of entry money back to the runners. We received so much useful runner swag!
One of my favorite things about Bighorn is the start time. This year, it was moved to 9am on Friday instead of 10am due to the extra tough course conditions. There was still snow at the higher elevations, so they saw fit to give runners an extra hour. Still, though, it meant a good night's rest before arriving at the start.
We started at the Tongue River Canyon, where I instantly fell in love with the race. It was breathtaking! I had only seen "The Needle" in pictures. It, along with all the limestone formations, were beyond impressive. After saying goodbye and good luck to Sergio and Marty, listening to a prayer by a local pastor, and a playing of The Star Spangled Banner, we were off. The miles seemed to go by so quickly, as I chatted with those around me. This race attracts people from all over. I even happened to meet friends of friends that I've raced with over the years, and people who've run at races I've done out east. It made me appreciate the ultra-running family that much more.
"I will give you anything you ask." - Bonasera
This race has amazing volunteers and people who take pride in making the event a success. When I arrived at an aid station, I was asked what I needed, if I thought I was getting enough fluids, if I would like some bacon, and on and on. Many of the volunteers at Bighorn are non-runners who have their fingers on the pulse of the ultra-running community. They knew what to expect from the runners and what to look for. Thankfully, I was looking/feeling good and getting what I needed from each aid station. I had no doubt I was staying hydrated and getting adequate nutrition. I was feeling strong, using poles when I felt it was necessary, and just motoring along.
One of my goals in the race was to be sure to make it to the turnaround AFTER eleven hours. I got there by 8:35pm (11 hrs, 35 min), so I was pretty glad to know I wasn't pushing the pace too hard. Getting to this AS, Jaws, was quite the chore. It felt like forever, but even longer than forever with the mud that plagued the course for so many miles. I wish I could adequately describe the mud we endured, but I feel like it's futile. You had to be there. You had to experience it. At one point, as I was attempting to run, my right foot sunk deep into a mud hole. I lifted my foot out of the hole, but without my shoe! I screamed a little, then dug down about a foot to reach for my shoe. Thankfully, there was a stream nearby so I could rinse my sock and the mud-filled shoe. Then, there was the snow going in to Jaws. Again, I just remember thinking, "This is the worst. Wow." Also, I wondered how the runners who had already made it there were doing.
As I entered Jaws, there were runners sitting all around getting help. Was I in an aid station or in triage? A medic immediately asked me if I had any nausea, if I was breathing normally, and if I needed to sit down. I might have been a little tired from trudging through snow and mud to get there, but otherwise, I felt fine. A volunteer brought me my drop bag which contained the gear I was supposed to take out and use, at least until Sally's Footbridge AS. It consisted of a thermal base layer, Black Diamond mitted gloves, and a Patagonia Torrentshell waterproof rain jacket.
Three things that would ensure my comfort with the change in weather.
Three things that I left in the drop bag, and left at the aid station.
Did I mention that I was in the lead? I saw the next few ladies about five minutes after I left Jaws. They were also looking like they were doing well and feeling strong.
Later, I would hear all sorts of stories about this section of trail. I would hear about how others, like myself, fell into the snow and had to climb out. Wow. It was all a bit unreal to be having this experience. I have never been in a race where my hands and feet have felt so frozen. Thankfully, a while later on the descent to Elk Camp AS, I was able to warm up a bit. Since it is an out-and-back course, I passed friends and other runners, warning them to stay warm. I had not yet realized my own mistake.
"We'll get there, pop. We'll get there." - Michael Corleone
I went into Elk Camp but quickly left. I figured that if I kept moving quickly, I would keep warm. Unfortunately, the weather had plans to cool down even more on the way to Spring Marsh. I stopped, had some broth, then quickly left.
Keep moving, Shannon.
You're getting cold, Shannon.
You didn't take your cold weather gear from Jaws, Shannon.
It was time to start making some decisions, and thankfully, I remembered that I put a safety blanket in my pack. I took it out and wrapped it around my upper body. The volunteers at Spring Marsh said it was seven miles to Cathedral Rock. I needed to make it there, then see if I could get warm. It was a long seven miles of me berating myself for not getting the essential gear I needed. I still can't understand my thought process at the time, but as I was running with the foil flapping in the wind, I tried to stay positive and get to CR.
I finally arrived at the aid station, colder than I could ever remember being. I had also ripped the blanket while running, so it wasn't helping at all. I tossed it into the trash and stood by a fire for about five minutes. They gave me broth and I lied by telling them I was okay.
I was not okay.
My legs had just become lead weights.
"I have always believed helping your fellow man is profitable in every sense, personally and bottom-line." Michael Corleone
The next aid was at Sally's, which was a major AS where I hoped I might stay a little longer to warm up. I was having a terrible time getting my legs to lift up and move in some kind of natural running motion. I wasn't able to really "run" a lot in some of the muddy, rocky sections anyway, but when I tried on any runnable section, I failed. All I could do was accept what was happening, and look forward to the upcoming daylight hours. A super kind runner let me borrow his base-layer and that helped tremendously. I wish I knew who he was. I am so thankful for his generosity.
Fast forward a few hours, and I was on my way to Dry Fork AS. This is where I could have easily fallen apart with frustration over my situation. Every three steps going up the long climb was a struggle, and I would have to stop, breathe, and compose myself. I kept telling myself that I would get there, and that the long, arduous climb was just temporary. I knew and accepted that over the course of the next half hour, I would most likely get passed by the other ladies.
When I arrived at Dry Fork, I was so relieved. I explained my situation as best as I could, noting that my legs each felt about twenty pounds heavier. Aloud, I asked, "Should I keep going? Should I drop?" Someone's pacer stood in front of me, telling me what I needed to eat really quick, and that twenty miles is not a long way to walk--if walking is what I had to do to finish. He, the volunteers, and later my friend Tara, were my angels that day. They spoke truth, hope, and confidence into me. Next thing I knew, I was off to conquer the rest of this crazy race.
I picked off one aid station at a time, taking in the magnificent surroundings. Yes, I got passed, but that was ok. My goal now was to get to the finish today, and earn my buckle. I mean, I WAS still able to walk and move, wasn't I? I found no reason to quit now, even though I momentarily thought about doing so earlier.
"I have to go to the bathroom. Is that all right?" - Michael Corleone
"You gotta go, you gotta go." - Capt. McCluskey
The remainder of the race was rather uneventful, except for the runners who were running the shorter distance races that day. It made getting down to the canyons difficult, as there was really no place to step aside. Also, I had to pee. A lot. I was alarmed at the number of times I had to go in the last 15 miles. As soon as I went, I had to go again in the next ten minutes. I hooked on to another runner and his pacer who were going about my pace, and I can only imagine what they were thinking. Goodness.
"Friendship is everything. Friendship is more than talent. It is more than the government. It is almost the equal of family." Don Vito Corleone
Well, this brings me to the end of the Bighorn 100 saga. Ok, not really (I mean, here we are, two days after traveling, and we just received our luggage.) I finished the race in 30:54 with a grateful smile, gave hugs, collected my finisher awards, and ended up in the medical tent within the hour. I had chills, numbness in my fingers (which hasn't fully gone away), nausea, and I was peeing blood. Sigh. They were able to get my blood sugar up, get me well hydrated, and send me on my way with some sound advice.
In large part, I have my family and friends to thank for getting me to the finish line. My husband and my boys were there with me in some of my darker moments, with Ken telling me to hurry up and leave the aid stations. I kept thinking of Sergio and Marty, who were still out there somewhere. I knew they wouldn't quit, so neither would I. If they were going to collect their buckles at the end, so will I. My WOL team, who I've been meeting for early morning training for the past few weeks, was right there when I ran with a pack of runners on the course. Oh, how some of them would really love the Bighorns.
