In addition to these new wolves, our pack consisted of Ken, Frank, Kevin, Steve, Andrew and myself. Also, I can’t forget to give a shout out to my role model and personal hero, Sophia and her husband Tony who came as well to run the half marathon. (They had a rather horrific experience on race day but being double+ my age and still pulling it off considering the conditions, I have tremendous respect for both of them.) … more details on the race day to come, but first let’s go back to the beginning...

Wolfpack heads to the Wild West

The plan was for the Wolfpack to fly into Las Vegas, rent a big van, stay a night exploring Old Vegas, then head out early the next day, hit a few trails along the way and settle in at “Rancho Relaxo” in the middle of nowhere southern Utah, where our backyard featured the intimidating skyline of the Bryce Canyon mountains, housing the trails we would be running in a few days.

Looking back on the adventures that led up to the race, it’s a miracle we survived to toe the line. Our first stop on the way to Bryce was Angel’s Landing in Zion National Park - one of the most dangerous “hikes” in the area. Along the way, you rely on chains bolted into the side of rock to hoist yourself up the sheer rock face. One mistake could end your trip really fast - after a very long fall. At times we were too nervous to lean over with our cameras (phones) to snap a picture of the drop off, let alone face it with our own eyes. It took a lot of manipulation and several white lies to convince Celia to continue to the end of this trek. I remember her saying, “We are NOT coming back this way, right?” -- Me: “No, of course not! Just a little bit further, almost there!” ...She didn't realize at that point that it was an out and back!! ...But in my defense, it looks completely different when going in the opposite direction!

Eventually, we made it back down and cooled off in the stream at the base of the trail in the valley as the sun set on the other side of the mountains. I later showed Celia some YouTube clips of others hiking Angel’s Landing and she admitted that if she had seen them before, she would not have done it. This experience set the foundation for our budding friendship that would continue to be filled with little white lies, big adventures, and unforgettable memories.

Another memorable aspect of our adventures pre-race, was the fact that we were always starving. Even though we had gone to the effort of preparing egg salad sandwiches, that we would annoyingly refer to in the most obnoxious voices as “sammiches” or “eggy sammies”, -- somehow they always got left behind. We would collectively realize it only after being way too far into the hike to turn back, and thus we would finish our journey ravenous for some “sammies”! (And everyone eventually got on board referring to them as such, in the silly voice, as well!)

For most serious (or sensible) athletes, the days leading up to a race are spent tapering, staying off your feet, and resting up. But when you are idiots like us, surrounded by such a fantastic natural playground riddled with trails and canyons and beautiful scenery, it's impossible to sit still. So, the next day, we made another run/hike starting at this shady spot, requiring us to trespass on someone's private land, and venture through a sandy dried-up riverbed in the blazing sun, fully exposed, until we finally stumbled upon these slot canyons where we could seek relief from the heat (and think about our yummy Sammies back in the car…). We cautiously headed into the giant slot, a little nervous as we rounded each corner - unsure of what might be lurking just out of sight. We came to an obstacle, and debated bouldering over the rocks into the smelly standing water (of unknown depth) on the other side, but then Celia abruptly said “It smells like an animal, I’m out”. Without hesitation, Andrew turned bolted out of the slot, leaving us all to be ravaged by the mountain lion(s) or whatever beast was causing the foul smell…. It’s times like these where the depth of his love and devotion never ceases to amaze me.

Luckily, there was no actual wildlife encounter, but we decided not to risk going farther and made our way out of the slot to explore outside more and to see if we could view the slot from the top down. If it weren’t for the heat and our growing hunger and knowing that we had a big race rapidly approaching, we probably would’ve spent longer climbing and running this natural playground, but trying to be somewhat “smart” we turned back. On the way back, we got only a little lost, but thanks to Ken’s fancy new Garmin watch map, we somehow made it back to the car. And boy were we excited. For one, we were glad that the car hadn’t been towed and that we had another epic trail experience checked off the list. And second, for the sammies that we nommed as we drove back to homebase.

The next day, we decided to take the day off to rest before the race and hit the packet pick up. Nick arrived that evening as we were preparing a family dinner at the Rancho. We made Scott Jurek’s Vegetarian Chili from Eat & Run, Corn on the Cob, and I forget what else but it was all delicious. We had been in contact with Nick as he was traveling, spamming him with messages, goading him to see about switching to the 50 mile race when he went to pick up his bib, but he insisted he wasn’t ready and wanted to test his legs and lungs a bit more before diving into something so big. When he showed up, we attacked him with hugs and introduced him to the rest of the clan he had not yet met. And then, that cheeky boy showed us his 50 mile race bib. He was IN!! We erupted and excitedly embraced him again, thrilled that he’d be joining us to conquer the beastly skyline, lurking right before our eyes, as we stood chatting on the back deck of the Ranch.

I get warm fuzzies thinking back to the rest of that night. From eating dinner on the deck, joking and laughing with everyone and sharing in Nick’s excitement to have pulled the trigger on the 50, to finalizing (and overthinking) our drop bags and running packs and securing our bibs on to our race outfits, to trying to go to sleep with the sun and the local herd of cows still up and moo’ing away.

Our alarms would go off in the middle of the night, we’d ready ourselves, eat some brekky, try to poo, and those who could would brag and those who could not would pout and curse their stubborn sphincters. Then we’d drive 30-45 minutes to the park in the dark, but I don't really remember waking up until the Shuttle from Hell. Since the course is an out and back for the 100 milers, and a 1-way for the 50 milers, we had to arrive insanely early to catch a spot on one of those 14-passenger vans that would take us to the start line and ultimately cause both the blood to drain from our heads and other bodily fluids to drain (or stain) in our pants.

To say it was the most terrifying van ride of my (our) life is an understatement. Riding in the backseat with Andrew and Ken next to me, I remember looking over to Andrew, eyes closed and gripping the seat in front, Ken wide-eyed bracing himself and praying to every God he never believed in before, and Nick in the row ahead, crack a few nervous jokes at first but then went mute. The van felt like it was going 80 mph, flying down this ungroomed dirt “road” on the edge of the cliff, tipping from side to side, catching air, then bottoming out, and causing my head to crash into the ceiling and window more than a few times. Then all the sudden the driver slams on his breaks and we come to a stop. Apparently one of the other vehicles in the caravan blew out a tire. At this point, we were all regretting not signing up for the 100 Mile race and ready to get out and run the rest of the way to the start. After a pause, the nightmare continued, for what felt like forever. Until it was finally over - we made it.

On the brightside, as we kissed the ground upon exiting the death mobile, we thought, if we can survive that ride, running the 50 miles back will be a welcomed piece of cake!

To be honest the details of the race itself are all a bit of a blur now but I can remember a few highlights. We all had intentions to stick together as long as we could, but it came as no surprise when within the first mile or two My Love had to stop to relieve himself. I waved the rest of the guys on, as I knew he might be a while and waited. The goal was to finish. And being our first mountain ultra, we respected the distance, elevation, altitude, heat, and with so many unknowns, decided to share in this adventure, even if it meant slowing each other down at various times.

The trail is absolutely gorgeous and the YouTube video that had originally hooked us definitely delivered, and then some. However, some of the aid stations that year did not. It was mid June, so we expected it to be hot, but we did not expect them to run out of water! A lot of the runners were delayed because of this, but fortunately we were just in time to fill our packs and move on.

Kevin and Steve M had stuck together from the beginning a bit behind the rest of us. They had opted for very different methods of “fueling” and let’s just say, Kevin’s was more effective. At one point late in the race we watched as Kevin bounded effortlessly past us, fresh as a daisy. His Amino supplements were hitting the spot apparently! (That, or the pony tails he was chasing…)

Andrew and I plodded along, through some highs and lows, but the heat was extreme. At aid stations, we’d shoved ice in every crevice imaginable and tried to eat, but probably had not quite mastered this, yet. Towards the evening a merciful cloud emerged as a result of a forest fire that seemed to originate in the direction of our Airbnb. This was a slight concern at first as we discussed whether or not we had remembered to turn off the oven, but alas we decided to refocus on the task at hand, and find yet another silver lining. Even if we had no place to sleep later, at least in that moment we had respite from the blistering sun.

As we battled to the finish, the miles seemed to drag on. We even passed a few runners who had crashed hard and were receiving medical aid, on drips, on the side of the trail. Just like the Shuttle from Hell earlier that morning (which felt like forever ago by that point) it felt as if it would never end. Then it did.

And there was Celia, glowing, with this beaming smile that felt like an oasis after being lost in the desert all day. She ran us in the last stretch. We hobbled across the finish - nearly dead last - collected our hand crafted finisher mugs and flip flops and somehow made it back to where the rest of the Pack had assembled after finishing. It wasn’t an impressive finishing time, but it was before the cut off. And when Celia handed us a beer and a bowl of food, we felt like champions.

What a battle. We had done a mountain 50. We had the Points to put in for the UTMB-CCC drawing… how would we ever conquer that beast? It would be at higher altitude and over double the elevation gain as what we had just muddled through, in a foreign country, no less. Oh well, we didn't have to think about that just yet. We probably wouldn't get in the first year, anyway…