Zion 100: What I Learned Running 100-Miles, Part 11

It's amazing to me how many life lessons can be harvested from a 100-mile ultra trail race. Last week's Zion 100 was no different.

For those of you who have followed my professional career, dating back to the day Adam Edwards and I started Telarus, you know that the line between work and friendship is very blurry. Many of you have followed my running career and given me words of support, you've read my last 10 chapters, and you've been an amazing support group to me personally.

In that spirit I give to you the 11th installment of my 100-mile race saga: The Zion 100.

BACKSTORY

2022 was without question the pinnacle of my trail running career. 12 years of ultra experience combined with recent lessons learned from my amazing running coach, Jeff Browning (aka Bronco Billy) had helped me break through the "glass ceiling" that caused me to plateau from 2018 to 2021 - the years my times seemed to stay around the same.

The highlight of last year was running my first sub-24-hour 100-mile race of my life: the Bear 100. Everything I've been working on the past few years: diet, better training, more quality miles, elevation training, stretching, etc. was all geared toward a sub-24 Bear. I had run the Bear 100 three different times before, all with times over 24 hours: 25:40 (2018), 25:53 (2019), and 24:45 (2021). Last year I ran the Bear 100 in 23:16, good for 14th place overall; my first top-20 100-Mile finish.

The other highlight of 2022 was actually WINNING my first ultra. On August 6, 2022, I finished first in the Kat'cina Mosa 100K trail race in Hobble Creek Canyon, Utah. Granted, the elite Mark Hammond suffered a hamstring injury at Mile 45, and two other young runners made a navigation error not long thereafter, but that's just the way things work out in ultras, and in life. If you take care of your OWN business and just stay consistent, sometimes good luck finds you!

NO REST NOVEMBER

As a record-setting 2022 came to a close, I was invited to participate in a virtual race/contest called "No Rest November". This is a private contest that takes place entirely on Strava, the app that many runners use to log their miles, post trail porn (pictures of amazing views), and share their routes with their connections.

The contest rules were simple: Step 1. Run at least 10K per day, outdoors, for the month of November. Step 2. If you survive through the end of November, the distance increases 1K per day until there is only one runner left "standing" - that runner is the winner and takes home the entire pot (of entry fees).

Thinking pretty highly of my 2022 achievements, I not only entered this contest, I bet an additional $150 that I'd win! (aka, "The Gambler Bet").

Long story short, November was just as easy as could be, as I averaged over 10 miles per day the entire year (2022). When December rolled around, the name of the contest changed to "Sudden Death December". Soon, the distances were getting pretty interesting: 13 miles, 15 miles, 20 miles, 24 miles.

By the end of December, we were around 26 miles (a marathon!) per day and counting. I had to find a way to get my miles in the day of my colonoscopy, the day I took my oldest son to see the Eagles/Bears game in Chicago, and even the day of the Rose Parade and Rose Bowl for a tip we won from Nextiva!

For me, the distances were all doable. It was the TIME commitment that forced everyone in the contest to get creative. Waking up early and starting runs at 12:01 AM were not uncommon as you had to get your run in during the 24-hour window of each day.

SUDDEN DEATH DECEMBER

As we celebrated the New Year, three runners remained: me, Michael Greer (2022 Zion 100 winner), and Reese Jones (2022 Last One Standing 102-Mile winner). I didn't know these two gentlemen before this contest, but they were goliaths in my mind. Mike runs 20-miles daily without breaking a sweat in the breathtaking Phoenix area, and Reese is a machine on the roads of St. George, Utah.

Each day of the competition I was legitimately intimidated. In my mind, I'm just a very lucky entrepreneur, dad, and amateur?runner. Each day I'd hear "voices" in my head saying, "just let them win, get your life back, and watch the finale from the sidelines."

To escape those destructive voices, I told myself (yes, I have conversations with my demons?a lot!) ... "Just focus on today, and let the rest happen as it will."

"Just focus on today" became my only thought each day as my alarm would go off at 3 AM.

JOBLESS JANUARY

As December gave way to January, the daily mileage requirement just kept going up. By January 2, the time required to do each daily run became problematic for Michael Greer, who pulled out to re-focus on his family, career, and overall quality of life. It was down to just me and Reese Jones, who had told me privately that he would "never, ever, ever, quit."

While Reese, who is 28 years younger than me, intimidated me like crazy, I just focused on myself and did my miles. Many days my local friends would show up at 4 AM and run many, or all, of the miles with me. Several days I wanted to quit, but perfectly timed phone calls from my friends convinced me to stay in just one more day. Just. One. More. Day.

Finally, on January 11, 2023, Reese called to congratulate me on the win. He had to take a business trip to Cancun with some of his clients and the time commitment, combined with the heat and humidity of the topics, became too much for him to bear.

I was stunned, as his social media posts and private texts had never shown ANY sign of weakness, willingness to drop out, nothing. I'm actually still in shock to this day that I won that contest, which pushed my fatigue levels and mental toughness to the absolute limits.

POST RACE BLUES

After winning the No Rest November Title, my world was chaos. While I was grateful?to get back to work and family, running had turned from something I loved and looked forward to doing, to something I loathed. I was over it. I didn't like it. I didn't want to do it anymore. My love for the sport was extinguished. Add the heaviest snowfall on record to the mix, and I barely wanted to go outdoors the entire months of January and February.

Last year I had qualified for, and signed up for, and paid for, the 2023 Boston Marathon. This would be my seventh time running it. Not only is it one of the most fun experiences any runner can ever take in, it is also always followed by a post-race Telarus partner get-together where suppliers, technology advisors, and Telarus employees get together for some great food and stories!

At the end of February, I noticed that my new friend Reese Jones would be running in the Zion 100, which takes place the same weekend as the Boston Marathon. "Maybe running with Reese again might help me re-light the running fire?" I thought.

After thinking about it for a few days, and then learning Michael Greer would be there helping, crewing, and pacing other runners, I decided to forsake the Boston Marathon and enroll in the Zion 100, which has half of the elevation (10,700 feet) that I'm used to.

MAKING THE COMBACK

As the weather started to get better in March and April, I started to trade in pavement miles for the ones that I really like: mountain trail miles. Almost each time I'd post a workout on Strava, Michael Greer would chime in or text me "another great run by a legend!", and other encouraging words. Just when I was ready to be done, I latched on to his positivity, began texting him on the regular, and started to re-build myself back up.

Work didn't make the training easy, with a Telarus President's Club trip to St. Lucia in early April, I'd have to find a way to get some miles in and still not be late to our events! Each morning I'd get up early and take unguided tours of the island, dodging cars driving on the wrong side of the road, and buying water bottles from local street vendors out supporting their families.

It was an amazing time, the runs were fantastic, and several partners and suppliers let me tell them about my island running stories, which included a huge number of stray dogs and bribing a national parks security guard to let me run on Pigeon Point!

When I returned from President's Club, with over 70 miles in 5 days, I knew I was ready to give the Zion 100 a go.

ZION 100

On the morning of April 15, 2023, 180 runners toed the line in Apple Valley, Utah, an hour east of St. George, Utah, just south of the National Park. The weather was perfect: 65 degrees (High), 42 degrees (Low), medium wind, no clouds.

As the runners gathered before the official start, I was able to say "Hi" to so many friends, especially Reese Jones, who was just coming off a 50-mile road win in the Lake to Lake 50, and setting a new course record in the process.

Once the pictures were taken, and the 15 second countdown began, it was every man (and women) for themselves. Headphones on. Rap music up. Here we go!

At 5:00 AM sharp, the gun went off and I went out hot with the lead pack.

The group eventually thinned, and it was me, Chandler Blake (my close friend), and Art Hurtado (from Brownsville, Texas), out in the lead. We ran together for 5 miles on a dirt road with some slight climbs, but all of it runnable.

At mile 5 we exited the dirt road and began the Gooseberry Mesa loop on single track. It was only 6:00 AM, so our headlamps were still on as we traversed and navigated through the very popular mountain biking/hiking loop. Chandler and Art were putting in some serious work and pushing at a brisk tempo, so I decided to let them go and take measures to bring my heart rate down, and to start my "calorie IV drip", which I always do after the first hour of a race.

By the Mile 18 aid station, both Chandler and Art had built up a small lead, while a few other guys passed by me too, at a pace that I felt was too fast for me that early in the day. While I sifted through my drop bag to restock on food, and to re-adjust my laces for the steep downhill that was coming, Reese Jones flew by, dropping me from 5th to 6th place.

For a second I regretted the decision to take some time to tighten the laces of my new Hoka Stinson Trail ATR-7's, but quickly told myself "it's better to take a 4 minute penalty now and take care of our feet, than have issues a few hours from now."

I exited the Goosebump Aid Station (Mile 18) and began the super steep drop down to the main recreational area. After a few stream crossings, muddy shoes, and a long run in to the next aid station, I could see several runners not too far ahead of me.

I reached the Virgin Desert Aid Station (Mile 26) in sixth place and feeling fantastic. I was SO glad that I took the time to fix my shoes, to stock up on food (that I was religiously feeding on the entire segment), and to keep a nice and steady 10 min/mile pace.

My stop was very quick, thanks to the help some a few amazing volunteers, who helped by refill my water and electrolyte?bottles while I restocked on food and took another electrolyte pill.

I headed out in fifth place and quickly reestablished my all-day, every day, cadence. We were on some type of BMX/motorcycle trail as we ran over berms, jumps, and whoops. Up ahead I saw a runner dressed in dark clothes and a hat with sun flaps on all sides. Slowly, I inched closer and closer to him until I realized it was THE Reese Jones!

I was pretty shocked to see him and didn't realize that he had passed me a few aid stations ago. He looked great and was in good spirits, but I could tell something was off. I kept the small talk to a minimum and wished him well once he let me squeeze on by.

With each turnout and switch back I could see him fading, getting further, and further behind. I wasn't pushing that hard: 10-11 minute/mile pace on relatively flat ground. I knew right then, at Mile 30, that the kid was in for a hard day and I hoped and prayed he'd be able to figure it out and not quit.

When we started the next major hill climb up Smith Mesa, I was caught by arguably one of the best runners on the planet: Ashley Poulson, winner (and record holder) of the Badwater 135 (the one in Death Valley in August!). I'm a huge fan of her podcast "Ash Kicken" and felt honored to be next to her. I increased my pace slightly and started a quick conversation with her as we both speed-walked up the steep paved road.

She told me about her record-setting 2022 Badwater run, where she had to RUN each of the last 13 miles, uphill, at a 13-minute pace (or better) to get the record for the fastest female time. Seeing how easy our hill climb looked, it was easy to imagine her just flying up Mt. Whitney and into the history books. If you ever need motivation, ideas for running faster, or just a simple 'pick-me-up", Ashley's channel will help!

We came to the top of the climb and into Smith Mesa Aid Station (Mile 43) together. My stop was much faster than hers, so I left her there and again focused on the next segment. I didn't see a single soul the next 8 miles. Those are the miles when you need to remember, people ARE behind you, people ARE chasing you. Just because you think you're alone, and can slack off, you CAN'T.

Coming down Smith Mesa on the Flying Monkey trail was STEEP. So steep, in fact, that there was a segment where you had to repel down a rope to get down! If you'd like to see exactly where this was, check out this video of Red Bull's Mountain Bike team bombing down this very sketchy trail!

HALF WAY HOME

I pulled into Virgin BMX Aid Station (Mile 52) in 4th place and feeling perfect. I took a quick second to use the restroom (my only potty stop of the day), refilled my drinks, grabbed some more food, and headed out for Guacamole Mesa.

During that very long climb up a gravel service road, I succumbed?to complacency. While most of it was runnable, I surveyed my surroundings and didn't see anyone in sight: not in front of me, not behind me. It seemed, in the moment, that doing any extra work wouldn't benefit me either way. So, I did the bare minimum.

I reached the top, the beginning of the Guacamole Mesa, now in 3rd place (I passed someone in the Virgin BMX Aid Station). I headed out for the 7-mile loop feeling tired, in the peak heat of the day. I thought to myself "Bro! You're doing amazing! Let's just slack off a bit, eat some food, get everything back online again after that big climb, and just keep moving!"

Halfway through the loop I saw two runners getting closer and closer to me. A very tall runner, and his pacer, cruised by me almost like I was standing still. At first, I was mad and confused, having though I was doing just enough to maintain my lead. But this man was doing "grown man" work, and I decided not to chase him, and just run my own race.

Near the end of the loop, I saw Reese Jones and his pacer heading out. "Patrick! Slow down man, I'm trying to catch you!" he yelled with a smile. "Keep going Reese! You got this!" I replied.

Could it be possible that I was now 7 miles in front of Reese? I couldn't believe it, and in hindsight, was probably the worst thing for my race. In that moment, I thought I was a badass, and that overconfidence would later come back to haunt me.

I restocked everything again and left the Guacamole Mesa Aid Station (Mile 64) and put everything on cruise control down the long gravel road back to Virgin BMX (Mile 70). On the road down I saw several friends, including THE Michael Greer, Jason Renfro, Garrett Foster, and, unfortunately, Chander Blake (my friend who was in second overall until Mile 13), who had to withdraw from the event due to health issues.

I arrived back at Virgin BMX aid station (Mile 70), still in 4th place. I found my wife Debbie and son Jake (my crew), who had a chair and my spare socks and shoes ready for the change. This was her first time crewing me in a race and I was super excited to see both her and my son in the middle of an event, helping me out. Usually, I just see those guys at the finish line, but not today!

I usually have my crew undress and clean my feet, fill the toes up with silicon spray, and re-sock and re-shoe me. Today I did it myself since I didn't set that expectation with my wife and son, so my time in the aid station was a little longer than normal: 10 minutes.

When I was done changing into a fresh pair of sock and shoes (again, Hoka Stinson ATR-7's), we were surrounded with runners of the 100K distance. I gave everyone on a hug, took some quick selfies, and headed out with ZERO idea of what place I was currently in. Turns out I left in 6th place - getting passed by 2 runners during the stop.

Just a few miles up the road, I saw the huge mesa that was Goosebump up ahead. It looked steep from several miles away, so we had a good 30 minutes to just keep staring at it as it drew nearer and nearer.

I wasn't too concerned, as I do a LOT of steep vertical training each day in my local foothills here in Utah. Also, the poles that I had been carrying around all day REALLY came in handy up that climb, which I completed just as the sun finally set. I took a quick second to grab a picture and appreciate the beauty of this earth that God has given us. Just, breathtaking!

I pulled into Goosebump Aid Station (Mile 75) still in 6th, but I noticed a 100-mile runner sitting down taking a break. That gave me a little impetus?to complete my re-fill/re-stock quickly and head down the dusty dirt road back towards the start line. This was the same road we started on, just when I came to the part where you turn right to finish, we turned left (Mile 80) to complete the last 20 miles.

During the 5-mile dirt road run it was now completely dark, and many campers and mountain bikers were driving up to their campgrounds to join up with their friends and families. Each minute or so another car would cruise on by, kicking up a massive dust cloud and forcing me to inhale some nasty air. I covered the 5-mile stretch in under an hour, but my lungs felt like junk the rest of the race.

As I reached Mile 80, I also noticed something extremely curious. My heart rate, which typically hovers between 125 and 145 during an ultra, was barely above 100. Usually, the more tired I get, the HIGHER my heart rate goes, indicating fatigue and a large buildup of lactic acid and other free radicals in the system. Here I was, running at 100 beats per minute, getting essentially "free miles" with almost ZERO byproduct. I saw that and thought "wow, I just entered a NEW gear that I didn't even know I had!"

I stopped at Grafton Mesa Aid Station (Mile 82), still in 5th place. Again, not really seeing anyone behind me, I took my time with my drop back, filled up my drinks, had a quick bite to eat, and restocked my food. I almost went through the motions sleep walking, having no fear of being caught.

Just two minutes out of the aid station, a runner passed me going pretty quickly. I thought for a second that he was a 100K runner and didn't pay too much attention. (It turns out it was Tim McDonough, who ended up 5th overall). Then I began the last two "Mesa Loops": Wire Mesa (7 miles) followed by Grafton Mesa (5.5 miles), then a quick 2-mile uphill climb to the finish.

I left Grafton Mesa Aid Station (Mile 82) feeling amazing. I had all the food and drink I needed, I was feeling great after a good 7 miles of chill dirt roads, and still thinking I was in 5th place. I couldn't see ANY headlamps behind me in the dark night, so I found a nice comfortable pace and went after it. During my Wire Mesa loop I passed several 100K runners who were walking and doing their best to get to the end of their races, and I gave them all encouragement as I passed by.

TAKING MY SOUL AT MILE 97

Now I was on my LAST Mesa Loop: Grafton Mesa. Again, I stopped at the Aid Station (Mile 93) to top off and head out. I kept my consistent, comfortable pace going and continued passing 100K runners. But then, at Mile 95, I saw a very bright waist lamp behind getting closer and closer. "That's NOT a 100K runner! There's no WAY there is a 100K runner this far back in the race with that pace. That's gotta be a 100-Mile runner! That might just be Reese Jones coming to hunt your sorry ass down Patrick!" screamed the voices in my head.

"5 miles. I'm 95% done. All I need to do is go all-out for 5 miles. You've got this Patrick!" - I told myself.

Quickly I ramped from 12-minute miles to 8-minute miles, running over rocks, jumping down small drop-offs, and running as fast as the terrain would let me. I did this for 10 solid minutes without looking back and thought "yeah, nice try buddy! I've got this!"

Then I sneaked a peak back on a turnout and saw that, to my horror, that light was getting closer and closer to me.

Now I was in all-out, 110% mode. I sped up to 7:30 min/miles over difficult terrain and vowed to myself that all of my training, hard work, diet, Sudden Death December, all of it would come to my rescue. I'm tough and I know it. I will NOT let this person have my place!

Again, I ran for 10-minutes like I've never run before, scared but motivated. That 100 BPM heart rate spike back up to 160, a level I knew wasn't sustainable but I couldn't give a damn in that moment. I just kept pushing.

At Mile 97.5, with just 2.5 miles left to go, Joe Storc (right) of Durango, CO, caught me. As I moved to the side to let him pass, he smiled and said "Well played bro. Well played."

At first I was glad that it wasn't Reese passing me. But then I felt a sense of dread. Joe had just taken my soul, involuntarily.

The last 2.5 miles were great. I kept running, even up the last hill, and finished in 21 hours, 18 minutes, a solid 42 minutes ahead of my race plan. My wife and son greeted me at the finish line at 2:18 AM, cheering me all the way across the line. We took pictures, I got my awesome Zion 100 finisher belt buckle, and rang the 100-mile Finisher gong!

Everyone congratulated me on 7th place and told me how proud of me they were. I should have been happy, celebrated with them, and been on the up-and-up. But I had a secret. My soul had been taken just 30 minutes prior and the "what if" thoughts immediately flooded my brain.

"What if I wouldn't have taken so long at the Mile 82 aid station?"

"What if I would have taken the initiative to ask someone to pace me so I didn't waste so much time trying to navigate the course?"

"What if I would have pushed a little harder on Wire Mesa?"

"What if I hadn't stopped to take selfies with friends and family?"

Man, lots of "what ifs". Too many to process. Those "what ifs" took what should have been a triumphant moment and turned it on its ear.

CONCLUSION

Too many times in life, we think we've "done enough" to win. We look back and don't see any headlamps coming up on us and thus, convince ourselves that we've got the race in the bag. I learned the hard way that taking my eye off the ball, even for a second, cost me a spot in the top five.

I ran hard enough to be in the top five. I had the fitness to be in the top five. I had a great crew, great weather; everything was lined up for a top five. But it was a series of tiny MENTAL errors, like papercuts, that did me in. A lack of judgement, a bad decision, even a lack of sound decision making, that made the difference in the race.

Just like David Goggins talks about in his latest book "Never Finished", we can't get complacent, think we've done enough, or that our past accomplishments will mean something today. Yes, my 2022 races were amazing. Yes, I won No Rest November when nobody thought I could do it, but all of that gave me a false sense of security that cost me two places in the last 20 miles of the Zion 100.

Don't get me wrong. I'm SO grateful to my family, friends, and volunteers for a terrific race day experience. I loved every moment of it. Some of my actual Zion 100 accomplishments include:

• First place in my age group
• First place from Utah
• 100-mile distance personal record (21:18, prior was 23:14)

But now my goal is to capture that feeling of disappointment, of getting my soul taken, and putting it into a box and storing it in my mental archive. I'm going to plug into that box of disappointment when I need the motivation to get up when my alarm goes off early in the morning, to find the strength?to say "no, thank you" when being offered a Crème Br?lé desert at Channel Partners, to run the 10-mile loop instead of the 6-mile loop, and even to go to bed early so I get the amount of sleep I need to properly recover. Hopefully I'll be able to funnel those feelings of "what if" and use it to run a great Wasatch 100 and Bear 100 in September 2023.

WHAT ABOUT YOU?

Do YOU have a story of disappointment?disguised as victory that you use as motivation that you'd like to share? Let us know in the comment field below and know that you're not alone!

About the Author

Patrick Oborn is the co-founder of Telarus, the leading Technology Services Brokerage with offices in North America, Australia, and Europe. Patrick is currently serving as the Chief Product Officer and oversees the creation of new and innovative software tools for its community of 4,000+ technology advisors who consult with businesses worldwide about their digital workplace environments. To learn more about Telarus, please visit?www.telarus.com?for more information.

You can follow Patrick on social media: Twitter, LinkedIn, Facebook, Strava