Bridger Ridge Run

In the weeks leading up to the Ridge Run the number 5 became very important to me.  I had run the race last year and loved it.  I thought I did well.  I finished, and that was my goal.  Finish and have a good time.  Enjoy pushing myself, enjoy the rush of standing on a rocky ridgetop and looking out over the valley, gazing at patchwork farmland, trees and distant peaks. 

Ah, sweet pain!

This was why I wanted to run the ridge.  I knew I wouldn't be placing in the top 10.  Still, why did I have to sign up for a race to have this experience?  All these things I could do on my own, without 300 other people breathing down my neck. 

I pondered this very question while up on Hyalite Peak a few weeks ago.  I was on a training run, making my way up the snowy headwall.  I had blisters the size of quarters on the back of both of my heels.  It was 90+ degrees and the sun was directly overhead.  I probably hadn't consumed enough water the night before.  Or maybe it was the beers that did it.  My head pounded.  I forgot to put on body glide and decided not to wear my compression shorts.  My thighs were rubbed raw.  And I had just shit my pants.  Maybe it was the Hammer Gel, or the beer, or maybe my body just said "forget it pal, you should be sitting in a lounge chair next to the pool on a day like today."  Whatever it was, my body didn't want it anymore.  And it came blazing out.

Still, I knew I had to keep going.  This year was different.  The pain I felt now would pay off.  And for some reason, it wasn't just about finishing this year.  I wanted to improve.  I wanted to break 5 hours.  I knew it was possible. 

I had come in at 5:02 last year.  Conditions were perfect.  A bit windy, a bit chilly, but pretty ideal for a race though the mountains.  I felt so good last year at the finish.  Maybe a little too good.  Oh, I was sore the next few days.  But as I thought about this year's race and my goals I thought "I can do better.  I can break 5." 

So I made the number 5 my mission.  I trained harder and faster.  I bought a heart rate monitor.  And, as luck would have it, I got put in Wave 2 this year.  I felt like, by starting in Wave 3, I had exerted a lot of unnecessary energy last year passing people - slowing down, bursting past someone on a steep uphill section and then getting caught behind someone else.  Some guy actually got angry with me when I asked to pass him before Ross Pass.  I was hoping I wouldn't have to do as much of that this year.

So when Wave 2 lined up at the start this Saturday I was feeling hopeful.  A little wet and cold, but ready.  As we climbed the switchbacks I did pass a few fellow runners.  And I got passed by a few myself.  There was a bit of jockeying for position.  But overall the pace seemed good.  I felt like the people in front of me were pulling me up the hill and the folks behind were pushing me.  I didn't want to be passed.  I got to the top of Sacajawea in 43 minutes.  I looked at my watch in amazement.  I felt good. 

"Do you want anything," one of the amazing volunteers perched on top of the mountain asked me. "No, thank you.  I need nothing.  I feel great!" 

And so it went, slogging though the mud, the mist, the sweat, verging on cramping, eluding the bonk.  I had the race of a lifetime.  I flew over Ross Pass, charged back up to the ridge, sprinted downhill and tiptoed through scree.  I came over Baldy at 4:00 on the nose and I knew it was possible.  I'd done this section so many times before.  If I just let it all go, remain steady...don't trip!...and stay in control it was all downhill from here.  The downhill was pure torture.  And it wasn't all downhill.  The short, steep up's made me want to vomit.  But I continued to push.  And as I came down off the ridge, the clouds parted and offered me a glimpse of Bozeman - my first views of the day. 

"Amazing," I said aloud.  My next view was of the M parking lot and what looked like hundreds of people, cars and tents all crowded around the finish line.  I could see it - The End.  I bounded downhill.  I could almost taste the bananas, potato chips and cookies that awaited me.  I crossed the finish and entered the cheering crowd.  I didn't even look at the clock at that point.  I was just so happy to be done.  I made it.  It was amazing.  An overwhelming joy came over me.  It filled my head.  I leaned over and rested my hands on my knees.  My wife was there.  She asked me, "Are you okay?"  I began to sob.  "Yes, I feel amazing."  Then I looked down at my watch.  4:49:17.  I had done it!  But at that point I didn't even care what my time was.  I had finished.  I had conquered the Bridger Ridge Run.

View the full results of this year's race here.

I'd love to hear your comments.  Did you run this year?  What did you think of the conditions?  Was this your first, tenth or twentieth Ridge Run?  Did you try to get in this year but couldn't type fast enough?  Sound off here...