What I learned NOT running 100 Miles

Not only do I love to run trails, but I also love to compete. Running Ultra Marathons gives me a sense of purpose. It gets me out of bed each morning when the alarm goes off, telling me it's time to run, and it helps me center myself spiritually and emotionally, not to mention help in my battle with depression that I've had since I was 14. Though not a naturally gifted runner, I have learned to love it, and thus, it has evolved into a passion of mine outside of work and family.

Since 2013, I've completed seven 100-mile ultra-marathons. The Wasatch 100 5 times and Bear 100 2 times. Each time I run one of these monsters, I have a tradition of coming here to LinkedIn to document what is always a crazy story full of twists and turns and share with each of you what lessons I learned along the way.

This blog was supposed to be called "What I Learned Running 100 Miles - Part 8", but it's not. This is my 2020 story, one that will surely stick out as the craziest of them all.

2020 Race Plan

Entering 2020, the trail running gods smiled down on me. I had managed to (via lottery) get myself into the Wasatch 100 again, as well as the Bear 100. The way the dates fell, the two races were just 14 days apart, with the Wasatch 100 on September 11th, 2020, and Bear 100 on September 25th, 2020. My primary fear was that 14 days between 100's wouldn't be enough time to recover fully. I've never run two 100 mile races this close together.

My other concern coming into the year was a glass ceiling that seemed to be holding me back. My time from 2019 (25:53 with rain) was just about identical to 2018 (25:40 + 4 bonus miles) and 2017 (27:53). Had I hit the 'fitness plateau' of my life, or did I need to find a new plan to breakthrough? According to Albert Einstein,

"The definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over again, but expecting different results."

At the conclusion of the 2019 Bear 100, I looked up the winner, Jeff Browning, on Facebook to offer him my congratulations. While on his profile, I noticed that he was also an "endurance coach," so I thought, "What the heck? Maybe he'll take ME on as a client!" I left him a DM, and a few days later, I was a client.

On my first day with Jeff, he advised that I buy and read a book called Primal Endurance, by Mark Sisson. Mark explains how science shows us the best way to build up a huge cardio engine and what role nutrition plays in our overall fitness level. It also details over 40 years of experimentation and overwhelming evidence that carbs are one of the enemies of good health.

When I met with Jeff the second time, it came as no surprise that the first thing he wanted to work on with me was cleaning up my diet. Working for Telarus, traveling the world meeting with sales partners and suppliers, it was VERY difficult for me to eat healthily. Jeff correctly diagnosed this as one of my key challenges to getting faster. In his words,

"Your body is a machine, and the cleaner you can burn fuel, the longer and faster you're engine is going to run!"

In my first few weeks, I saw my sugar intake go below 20g per day, just to 'shock' my body into learning to rely more on my fat reserves for energy and not sugar or complex carbs. All of my favorite foods were pretty much off the table at this point. Honey Nut Cheerios, white bread, mashed potatoes, and every flavor of ice cream, all gone!

After a few months and ten fewer pounds of fat, my body slowly started to acclimatize to this new normal. Soon I had energy during my workouts again, and I felt like the 'reprogramming' of my metabolism was finally taking hold.

2020 was going to be epic, as it was the first time in my life where I'd get to run in a fat-adapted state without having to depend on consuming a ton of sugar calories during the races. It would mean less stomach stress, less insulin, less effort!

The Devil is in the Details

The reason why Jeff Browning, the trail runner, wins 100-mile races at age 48 is that he pays attention to the details and lives a healthy lifestyle. He knows how to combine general nutrition, workouts, and race-day nutrition to maximize speed, minimize effort, and optimize his energy usage.

This kind of attention to detail in diet and exercise is something I took for granted. Prior to this, I generally thought I could eat anything I wanted as long as I was logging lots of miles in training to offset the damage done by all those sugars and carbs. Upon closer inspection, my diet was in dire need of an overhaul, and I learned that my workouts were severely deficient in elevation gain and pace. Jeff built a diet and workout plan to have me in tip-top shape by the time the two big 100 miles races rolled around in September 2020.

Dress Rehearsal

People often ask me how I train for 100-mile races, and I usually say, "By running other long races!"

Running long races between 26 and 64 miles is the perfect training for ultra-endurance runs because they're organized, you're not alone in the mountains (did you see that Cougar video?!), and best of all, they're catered! You don't have to haul or stash food and drinks over a long route.

On January 1, the 2020 race calendar looked something like this:

• March 2020 - Buffalo Run (Trail - 50 Miles)
• April 2020 - Salt Lake Marathon (Road - 26.2 Miles)
• May 2020 - Timpanogos Trail Marathon (Trail - 26.2 Miles)
• June 2020 - Utah Valley Marathon (Road - 26.2 Miles)
• June 2020 - Squaw Peak (Trail - 50 Miles)
• July 2020 - 40 for the Fallen (Road - 40 Miles)
• July 2020 - Speedgoat (Trail - 50 Kilometers ~ 33 Miles)
• August 2020 - Kat'china Mosa (Trail - 100 Kilometers ~ 63 Miles)

Even though January and February were full of business trips to visit Telarus partners and host Telarus events in two of our newest international locations, Canada (Toronto) and the UK (London), I still managed to squeeze in some runs and stay in relatively good shape.

Then came Covid-19, and life as we knew it changed almost overnight.

Change in Plans: Coronavirus Takes Over the World

As the epidemic became uncontrollable, a global pandemic was declared. In an attempt to slow the coronavirus spread, almost all gathering, activities, and sporting events were canceled; even the 2020 Summer Olympics weren't spared.

But, rather than cancel races, almost every race I signed up for converted itself into a "virtual race," where you could go and run the appropriate distance and email your result to the race director. But even with these major changes, I remained resolute in my determination to complete my entire race schedule en route to the Wasatch and Bear 100's in September

Quickly I learned how to 'cache' drinks, food, etc. and hide my bags along each of the corresponding courses. On March 21st, 2020, my friend Rick Stevens and I ran the actual Buffalo Run 50 Mile race, on the actual course, on what would have been race day. Buffalo Run, check!

The next month I ran the Salt Lake Marathon, where I drove myself to the starting line, promptly at 6:00 AM, the scheduled time for the race start, and ran the entire course, with Rick Stevens meeting up with me in his car for a few impromptu aid stations. Salt Lake Marathon, check!

In May, my family and I hauled up three coolers full of bottled water, Gatorade, and mandarin oranges into the local foothills so that everyone (including me) looking to run the Timp Trail Marathon could have some drinks and calories along the 26-mile course.

My wife and kids had fun shopping for strangers, and to top it off, I marked the last six miles with ribbons to make sure people not familiar with the course wouldn't get lost. On race day, I became known as "the guy who provided the aid coolers" along the route. The funny thing is that I turned in the best time to the race director, and (kind of) won the race!

I've done that race, with 'regular' aid stations, many times in the past, and my previous best was 4:45 (10 full minutes slower) when I was at my absolute peak. With the combination of a very low-carb diet, weekly coaching sessions, purpose-built training regimens, and getting lots of rest (thanks to never having to travel), 2020 was shaping up to be an epic year!

In June, I geared up for the last road marathon of the year, the Utah Valley Marathon. I hid a small cache of liquids and fruit in some construction barriers at Mile 13 and drove myself to Wallsburg, the race start site. Three hours and six minutes later, I crossed the finish line with a new personal record in my back pocket! I've been running marathons for over ten years, and NEVER have I run that fast, and only once had I ever gone under 3:15. I was on cloud nine, again!

Later that month, I toed the line for the first actual race of the year, the Squaw Peak 50-Mile. This is a very popular race here in Utah and usually draws many out-of-state runners. John Bozung, the race director, pioneered (and got approved) some very innovative new strategies to stage a 'real' race in the Covid-19 era with phased starts, temperature checks at Check-In, masks in and out of aid stations for runners, mask, and gloves for volunteers, food in small baggies instead of grab bowls, and a 'get your finisher medal and leave' policy for keeping the finisher area uncrowded. The race went well, and again I beat my times from all the previous years for a new personal record of 10:55! I even got to run the first part with James Lawrence, the Iron Cowboy, who just returned from competing in ECO Challenge Fiji - The World's Toughest Race (on Amazon)!

At the end of the Squaw Peak 50, I saw my parents, Kent and Sharyl, cheering at the Finish Line. They were no strangers to being there for me at the end of most, if not all, of my ultra-endurance races. I think my dad just like seeing me trashed so he could help me walk back to my car or buy ice bags for me at the local mini-mart. I'm not a guy who needs a lot of help with anything, but after these races, when my legs and body start to shut down, I'll take help wherever I can get it, and my dad was always Johnny-on-the-Spot!

July is always a month where I give back. I'm the primary coordinator for the 40-for-the-Fallen run to remember, and I'm the race director for the Follow the Flag 5K Trail Race, both of which take place the week of July 4th. On the evening of July 3rd, 2020, two other ultra-runners and I began running at that steps of the State Capital in Salt Lake City with American Flags. Forty miles through the night to the mouth of Grove Creek Canyon, site of the canyon where we fly 'Big Betsy' - the largest flying flag in the United States - in honor of all who have served our country. I ran in honor of Major Brent Taylor, who was killed in Afghanistan two years ago while training local security forces, leaving behind a wife and five young children. My dad helped me out in both events; he drove us all to Salt Lake City to begin our all-night-run, and he also ran our Finisher Area for the 5K event on July 11th, 2020, where we raised over $4,000 for the Follow the Flag Foundation. My dad was never in the spotlight, but he was always quietly helping the community and me.

As I went to bed on July 11th, 2020, I was on top of the world and my confidence was soaring. Every race of the year had been amazing; we had great weather, we followed all of the Covid-19 protocols in place, my fitness was at an all-time high, and things couldn't be better.

Another Change in Plans: Devastating Ankle Injury

As I reflect on this time, I should have been more grateful, more humble, and lived more in the moment. But, on the morning of July 12th, 2020, I woke up and thought, "I bet I could finish in the Top 5 of my 5K race. Let's go up to the mountain and see!"

Call it hubris, curiosity, or just plain bad luck, I drove up to the starting line of my race, parked my car, took one quick drink of water and electrolyte drink, and hit the 'start' button on my Garmin Fenix 6x.

Man, did I feel great! I ran the first mile in under 7 minutes, which is really difficult on a dirt road with some inclines. I ran the second mile, which is ALL uphill, in under 10 minutes, and I didn't walk one single time, which is also extremely difficult. I knew I would be in the 25-minute range, which would put me in the top 5, including the teenagers and people half my age. I could feel the glory of another PR coming!

Starting Mile 3, which is all downhill and in some cases steep and technical downhill, I was flying at a sub-6-minute pace. I was running so fast my legs struggled to keep up with the quick turnover, but I was managing to stay upright.

Then, down the trail, a group of six people were all walking up to catch a glimpse of the massive flag. I knew I had to get through them, so, like a running back finding his way through a hole in the line of scrimmage, I took my sights off of the trail and looked for a safe path through this mini-group. I usually keep my eyes on the trail in front of me, but in this case, I was on a dirt road for the final quarter-mile, so I wasn't too concerned about proper footing. Not knocking these nice people over was my primary concern.

About two seconds after I took my eyes off the ground to focus on crowd navigation, I felt a major pain shooting from my left ankle. I had stepped on the tiniest of rocks and my ankle, with 100% of my body weight on it, rolled severely. I struggled not to fall as I lost my balance and somehow stayed upright, but with a major limp.

I limp-jogged the last 100 yards to the finish line and almost started to cry, not because I had just smashed my previous record with a time 25:37 and finished in the top 5, but I had essentially ruined ALL of the hard work I'd put in during the first half of 2020. Before I could get in my car and examine my injured ankle, I knew I had badly damaged it and was looking at weeks, maybe months, of rehab. It's hard to get better at running when you can't put any weight on your ankle!

I was devastated. I went home, immediately got some ice on it, and started crying out of frustration, shame, and even physical pain. I was frustrated that I took my eyes off of the trail and assumed my footing would be sound. After six years of trail running and a few sprained ankles in the past, I KNEW BETTER than to take my eyes off of the road! And why would I ever let a tiny little 5K get in the way of all of the epic races in my immediate future? How could I be that careless?

I beat myself up about that mistake for many days, but I knew that I had to get over myself and start the rehabilitation process ASAP. It is a good thing my parents and spouse are physical therapists! After each ice bath, they all took turns helping me correctly wrap my ankle with a blow-up air brace so that I could accelerate the healing process. Every time my dad would change the wrap, it reminded me of when he would help me patch my blisters and other little wounds during my high school football career. There wasn't a wound or injury that scared him off. He was always excited to help, and me being 47 instead of 17 didn't matter to him. I felt his love and caring with each therapy visit.

Once my ankle could handle some weight, I got with Jeff (my running coach who himself is no stranger to injury), and we started to climb back up Fitness Mountain. As I gradually started to get back on the actual mountains, I realized that my fragile ankle was not strong enough for either the Speedgoat 50K or the Kat'china Mosa 100K races. I've run both of those races every year before running 100-mile races. In fact, I consider them essential training runs for the 100-mile runs. Missing them was hard, but I numbed the pain by heading up and volunteering so I could still catch a quick glimpse of my many trail running friends!

Climbing the Mountain, Again

As August rolled around and I could again run on my left ankle, I started running, hiking, climbing, and doing everything possible to recapture the fitness I had earned the first half of the year. I can honestly say that I've never run more, worked harder, ate cleaner in my entire life. As you can see here, the hard work paid off. By September 1st, 2020, I equaled my highest peak from July.

Another Curve Ball: The Wasatch 100 Gets Cancelled

On September 1st, 2020, just ten days before the beginning of the race, the organizers of the Wasatch 100 emailed all the participants letting us know that, out of an abundance of caution and to keep everyone safe from the spread of the Coronavirus, they were canceling the race and giving everyone the option to roll their spots over to 2021. My first call was to my dad, who said, "Well, look at the bright side, son. This way, you won't blow your legs out just two weeks before the Bear 100. Just focus on that one race, and you'll PR for sure!"

Truer words were never spoken. Without the stress of the Wasatch 100 just two weeks before the Bear 100, I was secretly grateful for the ability to just focus on one event. But, having missed three races now in a row, I felt the anxiety that I was ready for the Bear.

The next two weeks of workouts were hard, long, but very beneficial. Not only did I put the finishing touches on my fitness, but I was also able to dial in my hydration plan. It turns out that just drinking water when you're thirsty isn't enough once you go beyond three hours. You have to mineralize your water by drinking it together with sodium (salt). But, take a pill that is too strong, and you'll upset your stomach (and organs). Take one that's not strong enough, and you'll start to dehydrate. Through trial and error, I found that I need to be around 300mg of sodium per 20 ounce water bottle so that I didn't end up with dry mouth and partial kidney failure. Everything was coming together nicely.

Everything is Perfect. Too Perfect.

In years past, the weather during the Bear 100 has been very unpredictable. Two years ago, the weather was ideal, but last year, it was a rainy, snowy mess. This year we hit the lottery with cool temperatures during the day (around 71 degrees) and no precipitation at night, with lows in the 40's. PERFECT!

Just a week before the race, I got an email from Leland Baker, the race director, letting us know that the Bear 100 was NOT going to be canceled due to Covid-19 but that there would be significant restrictions and rules in place to keep crowds small and runners safe. We were only allowed five or less people at the finish line, so I made my shortlist, including Mike and Cris Bettilyon (my crew), my wife Debbie, my father Kent, and my mother, Sharyl. With a goal time of 24-hours flat, that would mean my 'team' would need to be at Bear Lake at 6 AM, so I bought Debbie, Kent, and Sharyl all hotel rooms in Logan, about an hour from the finish line, so that they didn't have to drive up during the night.

Three days before the race, due to a Comcast outage at my house, because my gardener accidentally cut the cable, I took my kids to my parent's house to use their WiFi to do their online homework. My parents offered me some dinner and asked me if I thought I was ready, and I said, "Yes, I think so. I'm so excited you guys are coming to see the finish, but I'm sorry it's so dang early in the morning!" "Oh, that's nothing. We wouldn't miss it, son. Run hard and stay safe." my dad replied.

Two days before the race, I drove to Logan, Utah, about a 2-hour drive to pick up my race packet and to run the first five miles of the course, just to refresh my memory of the start. I carefully planned my race with my start, my supplies, and even down to the time of day that I'd put my headlamp on and re-charge my watch with a USB charger. The run was incredible as autumn was in full swing, with all of the fall colors on full display. On my way home, I stopped in for my final pre-race massage from Jennifer Hanna, the most fantastic trail running massage therapist ever. I've never felt more prepared for anything in my life and was super excited.

My World Gets Rocked

On September 23rd, 2020, one day before the race, I completed one last shakeout run, showered, and began packing my suitcase and drop bags for the Bear 100. I was due to leave my house at 8 AM the next day to drop off my supplies at the home of Telarus AVP, Mike Bettilyon, my crew chief.

Then, I got the phone call that changed my life.

At 4:45 PM my new iPhone 11 Pro Max rang. It was my mom.

"Patrick, are you home?" she said with a trembling voice. "Yes, mom. What's wrong!" I responded. "It's your dad. I don't think he's going to make it. The EMTs are here. Come as fast as you can!"

Just minutes later, I was standing on my parent's back porch, watching a team of young emergency technicians administering CPR on my father, who was lying on his back with a lifeless look in his eyes. I stayed out of their way and made my way over to my mom, who was in shock. We stood there, hugging each other for a few minutes as the paramedics continued to work without any results.

After a few more minutes, the lead paramedic, who couldn't have been more than 30 years old, approached my mom and me. "Ma'am, we've been working on your spouse for 20 minutes now, and we still can't get a pulse, even with electric stimulation and adrenaline shots. We can continue and maybe get him to a hospital, but he won't be the same, even if we can get a heartbeat. We believe that he's not going to make it. What would you like us to do?"

"It's okay," my mom responded. "He wouldn't want to be a vegetable. If this how it ends, it's okay to stop."

With that, the young man turned to his crew and nodded his head. The other young man administering CPR compressions stopped, and a third member of their team grabbed a pen and wrote on his clipboard "Time of Death: 5:34 PM, September 23rd, 2020".

The reality, although obvious, was almost impossible to stomach. This couldn't be happening. Not to HIM. Not to ME. Not NOW. Just NO!!!!

All hopes of running the Bear 100 immediately ended, and all of my focus and attention was dedicated to my mom and my siblings.

The Real Race

This was not in the plan. Not my plan, not ANY plan. But clearly, it was in someone else's plan. For weeks I had been planning to have my father, Kent, at the end of my epic race. But, it was me, my siblings, my extended family, and our friends who got to greet my father at the finish line of his epic life.

Instead of driving to Logan to start my race, I was hosting family members (shown above) who almost immediately started arriving from out of town. I was meeting with the funeral director to lay the groundwork for a funeral, writing an obituary, and helping my mom make burial arrangements. So much needed to be done that we didn't have much time to mourn, feel sorry for ourselves, or even ask 'why'?

Over the next few days, there were more neighbors, friends, family, and gift baskets showing up at my mom's house than could be counted. I received hundreds of text messages, LinkedIn messages, Facebook private messages, phone calls - it was overwhelming and comforting all at the same time. So many thoughtful acts from so many thoughtful people made those days survivable. Words can't express how humbling and heartwarming all of that support was for my family and me. We even received gifts and well-wishes from competitors of Telarus, which touched me in a profound way.

Tender Mercies

Now, in hindsight, it would be impossible not to take stock of the situation and look for tender mercies or little blessings that may have been hidden in plain sight. I decided to make a list to share it with all of you, so you can see what I learned NOT running 100 miles.

1. My gardener accidentally cut my Comcast cable, forcing me to take my children to my parent's house so they could use their WiFi to complete their homework assignments. I later thanked my gardener for the cut, as I got to see my dad every night of the week before he died. In total, I got to spend three extra hours with Kent in his final days, which was a great consolation for not being able to say 'goodbye' one final time.
2. My dad died peacefully, instantly, comfortably on the back porch watching the quail take their dirt baths. He had his phone in his hand, where he was checking on his Fantasy Football team. If he had any pain, warning, or any other realization that his life was in danger, he could have easily called me or 911, which didn't happen. He went quickly and without any lengthy health battle, hospital stay, or hospice. What a blessing. (Sign me up for that plan!)
3. My dad was a school bus driver of special needs children. He passed away safely at home and not driving little ones like he was doing just an hour previously.

4. I was able to take my father to several Telarus events, including the Alabama-LSU football game last year (above). He would go around and talk to Telarus partners and make sure they all knew they were welcomed and loved. I thank the good Lord above that we didn't delay those plans.

5. During the funeral, I saw a few different family members come together and patch up relationship issues they were having.

6. My view of my family, my priorities, and my life has significantly changed. I want to be the kind of father to my kids that my dad was for me, and that takes deliberate effort, time off from work, and planning. I cherish that time with them even more now.

7. My dad loved to care for people. He was famous for paying the bill when a group of us would go out to dinner, for slipping a young missionary a $20, for anonymously paying for a military serviceman's lunch. That's why Telarus has created the Kent Oborn Memorial Fund to help people in the Telarus family with unexpected bills and other hardships they encounter. Kudos to the Marketing Team for putting this together and raising over $11,000 that will be put to good use. My dad would be proud!

Count Your Blessings

As I write this, the rawness of this loss is still very present in my soul. One day I feel great, and then, for no apparent reason, I break down. I know that this type of unexpected loss takes time to "'get over," but I don't think we ever "get over" things like this. I am adapting the best I can to a new normal, a world where I can't text my dad to tell him about a huge Telarus sale, a great training run, an epic race, or a fantastic play by one of my kids.

 I miss my dad terribly. He was my best friend. He was my mentor. My life's main goal was to make him proud, which is why I invited him to every Telarus Partner Summit and 100-mile race. He was an amazing grandpa, father-in-law, friend, business partner, and even bus driver.

The main lesson I learned is that you can't take life for granted. We can't read blogs like this and think, "Man, sucks to be you. Glad it's not me". Tomorrow is a gift, not a promise, and one day this will happen to you and your loved ones. Live your life as if today is the last. It can end in a second, just like it did for my dad. Live without any regrets. Live your life so that you never have to think "what if" when someone close to you passes over to the other side. Don't delay your happiness, don't wait to hug your loved ones, don't wait to take action to achieve your goals, don't wait to advance your career and seek the job you really want. Don't settle.

Thank you, thank you, thank you

Thank you all, again, for your love and support during this most difficult time. 2020 has been a real challenge. I'll remember it forever as the year my father left this world to become our guardian angel and the year my friends and family turned out big to carry my family and me on their shoulders. I'll also remember it as one that changed my entire perspective on life, one that reminded me to stop and smell the roses and appreciate every one of my teammates, friends, and loved ones each and every day.

RIP Kent Oborn. We love you dad!