Wasatch 100

"Chrissy I'm effing tripping right now. I'm laying down. Give me two minutes."

I lay right next to the trail at mile 75 and felt the blood in my legs travel back towards my head. So relaxed, minus the rock shoved into my hip. No matter. I shut my eyes and was seconds from sleep but knew it wouldn't come. I was just about to get passed, again. I was frustrated that the trail was loose and steep and I couldn't run it. I was frustrated that I kept getting passed. Frustrated that I was falling asleep but unable to sleep. Frustrated that I was bloated and chafed. Frustrated that this wasn't any fun. But whatever, I wasn't going to give up. I made up my mind a long time ago, well before the race. I was going to prove this to myself. All low patches turn around eventually. I thought, "Even if I have to walk 20 min miles most of the way, it's only five more hours, and what's five hours?"

That was the worst of it. The rest was by no means rainbows and unicorns, but there were spectacular parts. Tearing up at sunrise because I was doing this, and I think that for once I was happy. Strolling into Big Mountain aid station and picking up Franz. Plopping face first into a kiddy pool to get wet. Giving Speedgoat Karl a high-five, cruising. Running above Brighton at sunset. Getting surprised by my boss at Brighton. Singing and screaming Dance Gavin Dance lyrics without inhibition because I was losing my shit mentally and physically and good Chrissy wouldn't judge me--we've been through too much. Running hard on the fireroad with Earp to the finish line, wide awake. Crossing that finish line with my parents and best friends right there. They believed in me and were there for me even when I wasn't sure how I was going to hold up. And that's what's awesome about ultrarunning.

Dad Rutemiller with the magic

To be honest--and frankly, if I was a Shakespeare character, honesty would be my fatal flaw-- I'm removed from Wasatch by almost two weeks and still having trouble putting it into words or even coherent thoughts. I'm proud but not very happy. Could I have run two hours faster and four places better? Yeah, sure. But I didn't and it's 100 miles and it's really never that smooth. You deal with what you're delt. You stick through it because you're tough and you're committed. You prove it to yourself, that you're gritty and you can do hard things, even if they're contrived. I'm not unhappy because I lost a few places; I don't really care about that. But I also can't tell you why I'm unhappy. It's my ever-fluctuating mental state.

Wasatch 100 was my fifth 100 mile finish and it was the hardest. Part of me thinks running should build confidence, but I'm feeling like Wasatch broke me. The week after I was extra fuzzy and went from super stoked to grumpy and no fun, to futile arguing with some girl crush I was into (cause that's now totally over). People think running 100 miles is a transcendental experience, that it changes your life, that it makes you a better person. On some level that's true, but for some reason that didn't happen at Wasatch. I came out the other side confused, anxious, older, and way less stable than I thought I was.

I want to end this blog on a positive note but again, with the honesty, I'm not sure I can. I've procrastinated posting it for awhile. That run was my 45th or 46th ultra. That's a lot for anyone, let alone a 27 year old guy. I can't help but feel there's more out there somewhere. Is it in 200 miles? Is it delving my whole self into work, or another person, or a dog, what? Climbing or mountaineering? Ultrarunning is amazing, especially at first. Then you get used to it and it just stays hard. You get a little slower and get frustrated. What's after that? Why are all of us who started ultrarunning in 2011 slightly jaded and just kind of over it? Maybe it's just me. But I won't stop doing hard things. Never.

A massive thanks to everyone who supported me during Wasatch this year. It seemed like there were a lot more people in my corner this go around (thanks Petzl, you are great!). It was amazing thinking about you all when I was out there seeing things at 3am. I'm grateful for you, for the sport, the ups and downs, the life we lead. Stay strong, kid. Earned that one. Until next time.