Subject: Wasatch Report From: DBURSLER@webtv.net (David Bursler) Date: Wed, 10 Sep 2003 21:42:06 -0400 (EDT) Race day started with about a 20 mile drive to Kaysville from Salt Lake. I was very nervous but ready to go, The stress of completing the Grand Slam had exacted some toll on me mentally and physically. I knew that my greatest challenge remained and I was unsure if I could succeed. My mother and brother were once again by my side as they had been the three previous races. They did their best to encourage me but I knew it would take something extra special to help me get through this course, At 5 a.m. we started down what would be the easiest part of the whole course. A 3 mile jaunt to the base of Chinscraper ridge. I ran at an easy pace knowing I would need the energy later. The course at this point is just rolling hills on a single track trail. The front runners probably use this part of the course to pull away. I am of the mindset of just finishing and have no desire to be in the front. It was a good morning for running. The temps were in the low 60's with no threat of rain. We were slowly gaining some elevation the first 3 miles and the view down below was great. It was dark and I almost fell 3 times within the first couple of miles. Footing was not that bad at this point , just every once in a while a rock or root would trip me up. Some people were surprised when we reached mile 3 that water was not supplied. At the pre-race briefing we were warned that water would not be available until mile 14. An extra water bottle would be supplied at the start and could be discarded at mile 3. Some people misunderstood and thought water would also be supplied at mile 3 and because of this they ran out of water. I carried 4 bottles, one in each hand and two in my pack so it was not an issue for me. I shared my water with one person who I saw struggling a couple of miles from the aid station. We are all in this together so when I seen him struggling I helped. At mile 3 we began our ascent to the top of Chinscraper Ridge. This would be the first of many long climbs. I trudged up the mountain already a burning sensation on my left foot. It can't be a blister forming this early in the race could it? I wore Merrell Trail shoes because of the rough terrain I knew I would be running on. I normally wear light weight Saucony Grid Jazz. I have worn the Merrell's before so they are broke in. They fit a little loose causing my foot to rub but I never had a problem with these shoes before. My skin on the bottoms of my feet is still soft from blisters at Western States so I wrapped them with moleskin and duct tape prior to the run. I figured this would protect me but I was wrong. The burning sensation was getting worse and I had to stop and do some damage control. As quickly as possible II put another piece of moleskin on the area burning and started back up again. As I neared the top the climb became more difficult. The path to the top was vertical and literally caused me to get on my hands and knees and climb to the top and over the ridge. Once over the ridge, if not careful, I could fall to the bottom. The climb took a lot out of me. That combined with the blisters forming on my feet put more doubts in my mind. Can I finish this thing? Who do I think I am? I'm just a flatlander from Delaware with no mountains to train on. What makes me think I can run the Wasatch Mountain range? These thoughts crept into my mind. I was talking myself out of success and tiring more quickly. I was looking for excuses for feeling this bad this early. Training between Leadville and Wasatch was minimal because of tendonitis in the top of my foot. Did I lose that much fitness? I am 9000' up is the altitude affecting me? The thoughts and questions stayed with me all the way to the first crew check point at the Francis Peak maintenance shed. There was about a 4 mile downhill from the mile 14 aid station to mile 18. I really struggled and many people passed me here. I was just tired and worn out. Had the attempt at the Slam just taken its toll? When I arrived at 18 my mother and brother could immediately tell that I was dejected. I told them what was going on and how I was feeling. They sat me down, fed me, helped me change my socks, retape my feet, and put my Saucony's on. There was no discussion of quitting just encouragement. My brother reminded me of how hard I worked to get this far. Without even thinking about it I got up and continued on. The next goal would be to make it to the mile 39 crew check point. Subject: Wasatch Report (miles 18-53) It's about 9:30 or so and I am just starting my trek to Big Mountain Pass mile 39. Almost 5 hours to go 18 miles, unheard of. Knowing I had 36 hours to complete the course I tried to keep time off my mind. I eliminated the negative thoughts and replaced them with the beauty surrounding me. I took some deep breaths and tried to use less energy worrying about whether I would finish or not. This was supposed to be fun. I even stopped a couple of times to take some pictures of the views below. The course was not any easier but it was now just a physical fight not mental. I was alone most of the way but could usually always see a person in the distance. The course markings to this point were sufficient so I had no problem finding my way. My goal was to make it to 39 so I could see my mother and brother. They always find a way to give me a lift. My mother feeds me while my brother tries to fire me up. I am happy when I descend down to the aid station. My brother leads me to the medical check point where I have to weigh in. I am a little worried because I have been taking in fluids but not releasing any. Surprisingly my weight is down 3 pounds. My brother then leads me to the car where my mother is waiting for us. Before I can sit down she hands me her cell phone and tells me I need to talk to the person on the other end. A little confused, I say hello. My 7 year old nephew, Joey, is on the other end. He says "Please do not quit Uncle Davey, you can win this race" Immediately tears well up in my eyes. I try to hold back so I can respond but it is difficult. I find a way to spit out the words that I won't quit and hand the phone back to my mother. I was already feeling a little dizzy from having run 39 miles but this emotional experience caused me to lose my balance and almost fall onto the ground. Luckily, someone caught me before I could fall. My nephew, a child that struggled to survive at birth, asked me not to give up. I remembered sitting in the hospital praying that he would not give up. He did not and he survived. He was now telling me to do the same. Obviously the consequences of giving up were not the same for me but still I needed to be an example. Never give up whether it's life or death or just a run, never give up. Still very emotional I got up and started to make my way to the next crew checkpoint, mile 53. I had tears in my eyes for the first 2 miles. My nephew made me remember what this was all about for me. I lost focus and he brought me back. This is for my nieces and nephews, I will never quit. This carried me the rest of the way. When I felt pain I remembered his words and blocked it out. When I was tired I remembered his words and continued on. Miles 39 to 53 were the easiest of the whole course for me. The climbs were still relentless but my mind was now where it needed to be. I was alone most of the time now with no one in view. I had to stay alert and make sure I stayed on the right path. The course markings were few and far between. At one point I did not see a marking for almost 1 mile and back tracked until I saw people following the same path. Since the markings were not good I followed the foot prints hoping this would lead me in the right direction. The adrenalin caused by the fear of being lost helped invigorate me and give me the strength to run. I like the new found energy but did not like the way it was generated. I would have felt better if the course was marked better. I got to the mile 48 aid station, fueled up a little and took off. Before leaving one of the volunteers pointed me in the right direction. He said I would have to go 3 or 4 miles down the path before turning right towards I-80. Wondering why he was telling me this I asked is the turn off marked. He said yes but did so indecisively. I continued on hoping to make it to the 53 mile mark in the daylight. I ran down the hills and walked up. It took longer than I expected but I finally made it to the turn off. Before turning I yelled to a person about 300 yards down the path that he had missed the turn. I don't know how he did it because it was marked well. I then ran most of the rest of the way to the aid station. My brother had come into the woods about a 1/4 mile to meet me and we walked up a hill into the aid station. It was 7:45 p.m. and still light. It took me almost 15 hours to go 53 miles. I could not believe it. I felt very good coming in. I sat down, told my brother and mother about the impact of the phone call, ate, prepared for night time running, and left. Subject: Wasatch Report (mile 53-75) I left Lambs Canyon (mile 53) around 8 p.m. it was getting dark and cold. I was prepared wearing a hat, gloves, long shirt, and pants. I was in good spirits as I made my way up an asphalt road for a couple of miles. The asphalt was a rarity and actually caused me some problems with blisters. As happened earlier in the race I had to stop and retape my feet. I couldn't wait to get back on the trail. The trail was rocky and causing damage but the asphalt was literally burning the bottoms of my feet. I went up with a group of about 6 people. We had to be extra careful and alert of oncoming traffic. There had been a fire in the area and many emergency vehicles were making their way up and down the road. When we got to the trail we were met with yet another long climb. It was tough but with relentless forward motion I made my way to the top. I had an old song going through my mind I remembered from "Santa Claus is Coming to Town". "Put one foot in front of the other and soon you'll be walking cross the floooooor. Put one foot in front of the other and soon you'll be walking out the dooooor" The song is right, every step you take is another step closer to the finish. Stopping will not get you there. I was making my way to the top with 3 other people but there was very little talking. I made it up and could now benefit from a downhill or so I thought. As I was going down my right knee started to hurt. I ignored it figuring it would go away and if not I had a brace at mile 62 where my mother and brother were waiting. I ran down in some pain keeping up with the 3 people ahead of me. At the end of the trail we came out onto another asphalt road which would eventually lead to the aid station. It was mostly uphill all the way. It turned out to be one of those aid stations that I thought would never come. Ahead of me I seen a person coming in my direction shining a flashlight, to my surprise it was my brother. He walked the rest of the way with me up the hill to the aid station. I was getting frustrated because it was taking so long to get there. The frustration was sapping energy out of me and my breathing became erratic though I was still moving pretty fast. My brother asked if I was okay. I asked him if I had any options and he said no. It was understood without words that I was okay and I would continue to move on. My mother was waiting food in hand when we arrived. I was going through a tough spell mentally. There was still no quit but it was getting tougher. They got me ready to go out again. Fed me, clothed me, encouraged me, and pushed me back out on the course with the promise of meeting me at Brighton (mile 75) This would be a tough 14 miles for me. I found that the brace on my knee was not helping the pain. It became increasingly difficult to run downhills without pain. The pain was not intense but 60 some miles into a run, on a difficult course made it harder to deal with. I remembered my nephew's words "Please Uncle Davey do not quit" I could feel the tears coming back. I became more determined and was able to continue on ignoring the pain. The pain from the knee would only last until 5 p.m. Sunday I could deal with that. Before going uphill into Brighton there was a pretty good stretch of downhill that I had to traverse. I was able to do so and was actually glad to see the uphill before the aid station. It was almost 5 a.m and I was at the 75 mile mark. I had 12 hours to go 25 miles. No problem, I could walk that in. My mother once again had food ready for me. We did our normal routine and then my brother led me to the aid station for the weigh in. Before leaving my mother said I was doing great. I did not think so but I was glad to hear her say that. The aid station was in a store or lodge of some kind and had indoor plumbing. I felt the need to check out the facilities. My brother advised me to weigh in first in case there was a weight issue. I took his advice and did so. I finished my business at the aid station and my brother sent me off. I would not see him again until the finish. Subject: Wasatch Report (mile 75-100) I was on my way to Catherines Pass, the highest point in the course at 10,200 feet. In the distance lightning is flashing everywhere, it's going to rain any minute. I did not care because I was prepared for anything. Less than 5 minutes out of Brighton the rain started, light at first but then it came down steady. Lightning was striking close but I was on a mission and did not care. I did have a minor problem with blisters again. The water from the rain soaked my shoes irritating the blisters on my feet. I stopped as I was ascending Catherine's Pass to put dry moleskin on the affected area. This worked and the blisters were not a factor the rest of the way. The path to the top was very rocky and steep at some points. It was no where near as tough as the ascent of Chinsraper Ridge 5 miles into the run. I made my way up one step at a time following two ladies in the front who knew the course. Going up was not a problem, going down concerned me because of the bad knee. Actually the bad knee had now turned into a bad quad. My brother thought it was a cramp and tried to massage it out of me at Brighton. I was now about to find out if he succeeded. I tried to run down but the pain was too much for me to run normally. I modified my running style so pressure was relieved from the affected leg. I got down the mountain at a decent pace. The downhill was very steep and rocky just as it was going up. There was an aid station when we got down and I thought it was mile 83 but as it turned out it was mile 80. I was a little dejected but tried not to let it bother me. I still had plenty of time. Coming out of the aid station I immediately went up a hill/mountain called grunt pass. This trail was straight up, I grabbed onto anything I could to keep from falling backwards back down the hill. I pushed up the hill thinking it was the last challenge of the course. It was not a long climb but it was very steep. Once at the top I ran a few minor ups and downs before making it to the mile 83 aid station. I had a drop bag there but did not use it. I did not want to waste anytime so I grabbed some powerade and headed for the next aid station at mile 87. Miles 83-87 were more of the same, up and down. There are virtually no flats on the course. You are either climbing to the top of a mountain or descending one. The finish was imminent, as long as I kept moving forward It was just a matter of time. I was warned about "The Plunge" and "The Dive" earlier by the two ladies I climbed Catherine's Pass with. Two major descents that I knew I would struggle with due to the pain in my left quad. As it turned out there were more than two major descents in the last 13 miles. I would go way down only to come back up many times. I knew there was about a 5000 foot elevation drop to the finish but every time we went down we went back up. I kept asking myself when are we going to stay down. The answer was 1 mile from the finish. I made my way to mile 93 going up and down and up and down. I thought things would get easier the last 7 miles since I heard it was rolling hills. It all depended upon what the definition of rolling hills was to race management. When I asked the volunteer at the aid station how the course was I knew the definition was not the same as mine. The first two miles were straight up a dirt road and then the remainder the next four miles were straight downhill before taking the last mile on the main road to the finish. The uphill was tough but I could deal with it. The down hill would be tougher because of the quad pain. I had about 5 hours to go 7 miles so I was not worried. I made it up the hill strong and decided I was going to walk down the hill the 4 miles. There was no doubt I had enough time to finish I did not need to put myself through any unnecessary pain. Four miles is a long way to walk and I wanted to get this thing over with. I used the phone call from my nephew again to get me going, Pain did not matter, finishing is all that matters. Down, down, down, down, down, was I ever going to get there. Every once in a while the trees would clear and I could see the town below but it never seemed to be getting any closer. I just kept going knowing I would get there eventually. There were very few people around me but luckily when I missed a course turn off a guy behind me yelled to get me back on the right path. What a disaster that would have been. I was very close to getting off the trail and onto the main road when I seen my brother ahead. Wow! did this make me feel good. He ran with me to the road and then part way down the road. I looked at my watch 2:30 p.m. I am not racing anyone. The goal is to finish and I am going to achieve that. We walked until the path to the finish was visible and then I ran the last 150 yards or so. I've dreamed about this day for 4 years. How would I react when I crossed the finish line of the final race of the Grand Slam. I actually thought I would cry my eyes out. The emotional, mental, and physical strain a person goes through during this series of races is tremendous. I crossed the line dropped my bottles and gave my mother a big hug. A few seconds later my brother showed up and I shook his hand. I finished in 33:41 and completed the Grand Slam of Ultrarunning. The first person from the state of Delaware to do so. I can't take all the credit. My family sacrificed a lot to help me achieve my goal and I share my award with them. Dave Bursler Bear, Delaware Grand Slammer #150