I hit the carbo-loading pretty hard.
Readying the drop bags at the pre-race meeting in SLC.
Best drop bag organization in history.
My focus on carbo-loading persisted well into race eve.
And we're off!
After about 6 miles, it was light.
Looking back at the SLC Valley.
Approaching Francis Peak.
Grobben's Corner, Mile 13.4
Francis Peak aid, Mile 19.
After lots of time on the ridge proper, we ran through some nice forests and meadows.
Aid 2, mile 24.
Ahhhh...sweet aspen glade. One of many.
Mark Hellenthal, grand slammer. Probably the only one in history to have had his stomach stapled.
Shallow Rocks Aid, Mile 35.
We spent a lot of time on the Great Western Trail.
Big Mtn Aid. The first opportunity for crew access, Mile 39.
High jinx. I shot this photo of my crew, brother Robert.
For some reason, I appear to be blind in this photo. I weighed in two pounds fat.
I got hot on these exposed ridges.
Alexander Ridge, Mile 47.
Randomly, we followed a path created to accommodate a pipeline.
We finally worked our way toward I-80, which we crossed (underneath) at Lamb's Canyon aid.
Good too see Robert again at Mile 53, where I picked up all my stuff for the evening and ate Kraft mac n' cheese.
One of the less wild sections of the course.
I chose Lamb's Canyon.
Robert shot this photo of me right before I headed up the Lamb's Canyon Trail.
I didn't take any pictures for several hours. This is at about 3am, walking up the road to Brighton Lodge at the eponymous ski area.
Brighton is a total refuge for tired, cold, and hungry runners.
Sleepwalking is an efficient multi-tasking mechanism employed by successful ultrarunners.
Unlikely reunion with Fred Abramowitz.
Three and a half hours later, morning finally came.
This is foot-fixer aid station, mile 83.4, 7:30am.
Not too ugly.
One of my more artistic shots.
We ran some rocky doubletrack during the last leg.
Goat convention at the finish.
Me and 11-time finisher Charlie Vincent.