Subject: How I spent my Halloween
Date: Thu, 19 Nov 1998 14:58:02 -0800
From: dmckeeve@ctc.ctc.edu

Dear friends:
    I have finally  made sufficient headway with the backlog of papers to
grade to spare a few minutes to tell more about the Coldfoot 100.
Several of you have said "when are we going to hear some stories?"
    My impression after two and one half weeks is that it was a unique
running experience, quite worth doing but not one that I will probably
repeat.  The shortcomings are several. 1)It was disruptive.  I had  to
miss two entire days of class class in the middle of the quarter, and I
can't always expect to trade teaching duties like I was able to do this
time.  The fact that the run this year was on a Saturday helped in
logistics.  It is always held on Halloween.  2) It was expensive.  I
spent about $530 on airfare, plus $400 for expenses (they tell us we may
get some of that back, but we'll see! Pretty expensive run for one with
"no fee, but share expenses.") Plus I spent one night in a rather
expensive hotel in Fairbanks, bought some meals, etc.  I'm used to doing
100s on bare-bones budget. 3)It was a road run.  I remember now why I
switched to trails....little or no soreness after.   You should have
seen me after for a day or so....I acted like I was 110 years old!  4)
the race is rather poorly managed.  If you go, expect to be quite
self-sufficient.  Roving vehicles provide support (clothes, your own
supplied food, fluids) but logistically this run is very difficult, as
the runners get spread out over many miles of road, making it next to
impossible for even the most willing aid crew to assist all of their
charges in a timely manner.  Vehicles would switch runners as the run
progressed, but that was not without problems (including gear left in
the previous vehicle, etc.)
    So what was it like, you ask, to run a 100 in very cold conditions?
    First, I want to trace how I got there.  Being a mountain afficionado,
I always like to get a window seat for flights, but alas! I stupidly
settled for  a window seat on the port side of the plane, so I got a
great view of the Pacific, but couldn't see the magnificent Canadian
Coast Range, which was clear and spectacular but scarcely visible to
me!  I spent so much time peering across the plane, trying to get a
glimpse past the mostly-sleeping window-seat passengers on the starboard
side, that I think one woman sitting over there must have thought I had
the hots for her or something!  How hilarious!  ("It ain't you, Babe,
it's the mountains I'm lookin' at!" I should have said, then again,
maybe not!!)
    When we flew from Anchorage to Fairbanks, it was dark so I couldn't see
Denali, even though I was on the correct side of the plane.
    I was met at the airport in Fairbanks by Bill Merchant, a Fairbanks
skier and dog sled musher  who was entered in the run, too.  He finished
the 350 mile Iditasport Extreme last March, with three of his sled dogs
helping pull him on his skis (skijoring).  This was to be his first 100
mile run.  Also, I met Tom Possert there,  the Ohio legend and frequent
victor in many extreme events, including the previous Coldfoot.  In
addition I met previous two-time Coldfoot finisher  Sarah Lowell of
North Carolina and her private crew, sister Karen and a friend, Cathy.
Little did I know at the time how important they would also be to the
success of my run!
    Later than evening we all gathered at a restaurant/bar for a planning
session.  Then the suspicions I had had earlier were confirmed: Alaskans
apparently are rather casual about making detailed plans for something
which many of us would plan to the nth detail, such as a 100 mile run.
The place was too noisy to communicate except face to face, and I left
there with Bill and Tom wondering how this adventure would turn out.
Would I have access to the small mountain of specialized clothes and
food that I had brought?  Or would I have to fill my pack and take my
chances?
    Friday morning we met for a big Alaska breakfast at a truckers' diner,
then we continued north on the  Dalton Highway.  This is the "haul road"
which truckers use to haul materials and supplies to the North Slope oil
fields.  The road passes through mountains which I didn't realize
existed north of Fairbanks but south of the Brooks Range.  As we climbed
numerous hills and descended endlessly to deep valleys, the thermometer
on the rental van showed the remarkable temperature inversions which are
common there in winter.  At one place it was 28 F on a ridge top, then
-4 F in the valley bottom!
    We had to stop and take pictures of ourselves at the sign telling us
that we were at the Arctic Circle, a first for several of us, me
included. Yet as far north as we were, we had to drive another 100 miles
or so to get to Coldfoot, which was the southern end of the run route.
We would begin the run WAY north of the Arctic Circle.
    The truckers' motel in Coldfoot was not very exciting, to say the
least.  We all sorted gear for the final time and tried to get a bit
more rest that afternoon.
    At 4 a.m. Saturday we stuffed ourselves into the vans and drove north
for 100 miles to the starting point of the Coldfoot 100.  I was
surprised to see how far north the black spruce tree forest extended.
It was not until a few miles south of Atigun Pass, a 4700' gap in the
Brooks Range over which the haul road snaked, that the last trees are
found.
    This country is very remote from civilization, yet with the pipeline,
the road, and the occasional brightly lit pump stations for the
pipeline, and a rare small village, I didn't get the impression that I
was as far from it all as I get while deep in the Pasayten Wilderness
back home.
    Shortly after 6 a.m. we finally set off on our adventure.  The
temperature was about 14 F but a cold wind and snow flurries greeted us.
There were only 8 runners and four vehicles with a total of 7 support
people.   It didn't take long for the runners to separate along the
road. Tom was off a a quick pace, and Sarah, Jason Hodde of Indiana, and
I were the next group.  Someone remarked that the four out-of-staters
were leading.
    The first 20 or so miles were on bare gravel road, gradually uphill.
Since there weren't conventional fixed aide stations to serve as
intermediate goals, I had resolved to break the run into three stages:
first, get to Atigun Pass (about 31 miles). Second, enjoy the daylight
hours, during which I hoped to run relaxed and get to 55 or so miles.
Third, do whatever it takes to finish during the long cold night.
    I was moving along at a relaxed 10 minute per mile pace on the gravel
road in the dark, turning on the Petzl Arctic headlamp only when a truck
came along.  Shortly before the pass we encountered solid snow on the
road, which made for a softer surface for running.  I used Adidas shoes,
I forget which model, which had an aggressive traction sole and were 1/2
size larger than normal to accomodate thicker socks.  I used Smartwool
Hiking socks underneath Sealskinz waterproof socks, and I did not have
to change socks or shoes the entire time.  I had no blisters and never
had cold feet, although I did hit a cobble  frozen into the compact snow
at night and badly stubbed a big toe.  You'll laugh...Doug, the Trail
Runner, losing a toenail after a road run!   But it's true.
    As I walked up the steep grade to the pass, I was thrilled to see the
small herd of Dall sheep right next to the road.  Richard Larson, one of
the crew, had told me about the sheep several miles before, as he and
Karen and Cathy were shunting back and forth to crew for Tom, Sarah, and
me.  By that time Tom was already about 5 miles ahead of me (this would
later stretch to 15...hey, I know I'm slow!).  The climb to the pass was
extraordinary.  It was fully light now (in the Arctic the sun slides
near the horizon for the longest time, resulting in a very gradual
lightening), and the rugged peaks of the Brooks Range were fabulously
beautiful!  I see why the pipeline over the pass is underground....the
numerous avalanche paths explain it.
    At the pass I picked up the pace on the long descent. I was now in
glorious sunshine, there was snow all around, and gravity could do the
work. What a fantastic day!  Too bad the descent was only a couple of
miles.   Not long after I had my first bad patch.  I was passed by John
Schweiker, an Alaskan who now moved into fourth place (not that I ever
race these things, but he looked so smooth and I was dying....at 35
miles!!)
    The crew was forcing food and water down me (I'm so glad they did), and
after eating a piece of greasy chicken left over from dinner, I felt a
little better.  I was using a Platypus insulated water pouch, which I
hung around my neck and tucked inside my clothing to prevent freezing of
the water.   That worked very well.   I wish I had picked more
appropriate foods. Even though I usually have a huge sweet tooth and
love  breads, I cannot eat either type of food during a 100. What had I
brought? Bagels and fruit pies!  I had counted on using powders such as
CLIP and Sustained Energy for much of my nutrition, but solid food was
desired.   I had a disaster with a large container of Hammergel which I
had brought along.  The bottle fell over and emptied half its contents
all over my supply of energy bars, making a  very sticky, very yucky
unappealing mess!  Moral?  Hammergel is great, but beware of leaking
plastic containers.
    I reached the halfway mark in about  10 hours or so, and since I was
now running better, I figured covering 50 miles in 14 hours would be a
sure thing.  (There is a 24 hour limit).  Just before dusk, I heard a
large pack of wolves howling that unique set of beautiful sounds not a
quarter mile off the road.  I had observed very large wolf tracks at
various places along the snow-covered road, and was excited that perhaps
I would get to see my first wild wolf (I didn't).   A little while
later, when I saw my crew again, they could tell that I had a new spring
in my step which had been missing for hours.
    Richard:"How are you doing, Doug?
    me:"Fantastic!   It's -12 F, clear, wolves howling, moon rising. I'll
remember this night as long as I live!"
    Karen: "Are your hands warm enough?  Let me feel them......they ARE
warm! You're the only one who doesn't have cold hands!"
    (I used O.R. "Magic Mitts" and never had to dig into my arsenal of
warmer mittens.)

    Not long after this, my faithful crew traded with Fred Bull, race
director and participant Dan Bull's 20 year old son, because Tom and
Sara were now miles ahead of me and logistically the crew's task  of
serving all of us was getting impossible.  I was really sorry to see
them go.  They had made all the difference for me, giving me everything
I needed and encouraging me when I needed it.
    As the night wore on and my pace slowed once again, I realized that I
could have trouble getting in under 24 hours.  I was not running much
any longer, and a sub 15 minute mile was becoming as rare as a heat wave
in Coldfoot town in January.  At 65 miles I began calculating, to the
extend I could figure such things then, how many hours it would take to
complete 35 miles at 15 minute pace.  The demoralizing truth was that I
might not make it in time.  But there was no way they could pull me off
the course.  I would finish even if it took me 26 hours.
    At about 72 miles I saw the lights of my new crew van ahead, but was
surprised to find that it was Damon Lease, the crewman for Jay Hodde.
Jay was trying to become the first person to complete all 100 milers in
North America, and he had a good start on his goal.  But this looked
bad.  Jay was slumped in the tail of Damon's SUV, looking like he was
close to dropping out.    Damon said that Jay had become hypothermic.
    One of the difficulties, I found, of running in really cold conditions
was while exerting and sweating, one's clothes become sweat soaked, even
if trying to regulate one's pace and clothing to each other.  No big
surprise there, and I had changed my torso from the skin out twice by
this point.  I had learned that any kind of  windbreaker, including
Windstopper  and microfiber, much less Goretex, would condense
internally with frost, which then fell off and melted on one's inner
garments, eventually rendering them much less efficient as insulation.
I found that Mountain Hardwear's ZeO2 underwear next to the skin, with a
200 weight fleece garment and a Marmot Synthetic sweater over both,
worked great for me all night.  On my legs I had worn Patagonia
midweight stretch Capilene, then Patagonia Cool Weather Tights, covered
by Patagonia Windhsield Tights over  all, and my legs were warm enough.
I used a Patagonia fleece balaclava and a Goretex/pile bomber hat on my
head, sometimes with an O.R. windstopper face mask if it was windy, and
that worked fine, too.  I smeared Vaseline on my exposed nose and cheeks
at the suggestion of the Alaska natives.

    At  85 miles I hadn't seen any other runners since 72 miles, where Jay
had dropped out although I didn't figure that out until ev en later, and
I arranged to meet Fred and his companions in the van every four miles,
or roughly every hour.  By now I was not running at all.  The sorry
shuffle I could manage was not getting the job done to my satisfaction.
I had enough energy, but I just couldn't stretch out and move. I
realized that I wasn't going to make it in time, but I was not going to
quit, even though the whole project was getting to be frustrating and I
resolved that THIS 100 really WOULD be my last (I started saying that at
#10, and this was now #13).
    When I reached 98 miles in 23:12, I realized that I could coast in and
finish with time to spare.
    Since this is already too long, let's just say that I got into Coldfoot
and the finish in 23:39:30, and I of course plan on doing more
hundreds.  I also want to complete every 100 in North America.  I have 9
down, including most of the hard ones, and have 11 more to do (not
counting the impossible Barkley).  Next stop is Alaska again in February
for the Iditasport 100.  This running in the cold is habit forming!
    Tom finished in 16:12 or so, shattering his own course record by over 2
hours, and Sarah finished in 19:23, also besting her course record by
over two hours.  John finished in 23:22, and I rounded out the short
list of finishers.  Sarah told me that only 6 individuals have finished
the Coldfoot in the five year history of the event.

Doug

P.S. On the flight home, I didn't see Denali due to clouds, and although
I saw parts of the Wrangell and St. Elias Mountains, it got dark too
soon to see most of the southeastern part of Alaska and the coastal
mountains of British Columbia, even though it was clear enough.  So it
goes!

I am now back to running reasonably well again and look forward to the
next adventure, the Quadruple Dipsea in the Marin Headlands on November
28.  How different that will be compared to running with the wolves!