I can't tell you how good it feels to be sitting down and writing about a race that went well rather than ending in a DNF for one reason or another. After failing to finish Cocodona because of all-too-familiar breathing issues and then straining my hamstring during Tahoe, what I really wanted from Mogollon (pronounced mug-ee-yun) was a day of running that went smoothly. I'm happy to report that I got that and a little extra from this awesome race in a totally unique part of Arizona.
In the weeks prior to the race, I talked with a few friends who had run it in previous years. Everything you hear about Mogollon emphasizes the technicality of the course. I think that some of the descriptions oversell the technical nature just slightly, but with that being said, I think the real challenge of the course is not the approximate 16,000 feet of vertical gain, but is instead the 16,000 rocks one will encounter and inevitably stumble over during the 100 miles. Don't get me wrong, the climbs are often steep and the descents a bit loose and sketchy, but what I found most challenging throughout was the intense focus required to run on the sometimes barely-there trails.
The day before the race I said to my mom that one of my goals was to avoid painfully catching my toes even a single time. I didn't quite manage that, but I did have only one painful stub of my right big toe and while it was a doozy, I'm pretty satisfied with keeping the number of those hiccups to just one. Toward the beginning of the race, while my mind and legs were fresh, the rocks weren't bothering me too much. I felt good and smooth while bouncing around the terrain, and in the running-friendly sections of the course I was moving at a nice clip. It was obvious from the get-go that the only way to achieve a fast time in the race was to push the sections of Jeep roads and smoother trails, so that's what I did. I started to pull away from the rest of the field around mile 20 on a nice section of the rim road, just after seeing my crew for the first time.
Another notorious fact one tends to hear about the Mogollon course is that the section of the race climbing up to the Myrtle aid station is hot, technical, overgrown, and difficult. One of my friends who'd raced here previously said it best: "it just beats you up." Heading into this 10 mile section, I was prepared for the exposure and the heat. Since I started using the sauna regularly in my training, heat doesn't bother me too much and so I was happy to be making good time on surprisingly smooth trails for about 5 miles. And that's when I hit my first of the overgrown sections that every previous Mogollon runner talks about. The grass is about hip- to shoulder-height most of the time and the trail is often hidden from view. It's covered in rocks that you can't really see and so I was stomping through this area lifting my feet way higher than necessary to avoid catching them on anything. And I'd be lying if I said I never thought about snakes. More than once I caught myself thinking, "I hope I don't step on a rattlesnake. I'd never see it..." But you know, just keep moving, it's all fine!
Happily, I avoided any snake encounters and after marching my way through the fields of grass, rocks, and other unfriendly Arizona fauna, I found myself speeding up the climb to the Myrtle aid station. One thing of note here, I started this section with a liter and half of water and then drank two more liters filtering from creeks along the way. If I hadn't had a filter, I would have been in some trouble with only 1.5 liters. If you plan to run Mogollon, bring a filter like a Katadyn BeFree or something similar. It was invaluable.
As I climbed up Myrtle, cloud cover blessed us with falling temps and distant thunder heralded the arrival of rain. I stopped quickly at the aid station, ate a few slices of watermelon and then started on my way to Buck Springs, the second of four crew locations along the course. It felt good to lengthen the stride and stretch my legs along the non-technical rim road and down into the Ponderosa forest that covers the top of the rim. At this point, the rain came pelting down and I was even graced with a few minutes of hail. Honestly, the change of pace and sensation was welcome and I was in good spirits as I approached the aid station. I stopped at my crew vehicle, drank some calories while my mom changed out the flasks in my pack, and within a few minutes I was back out on course heading out onto the Cabin Loop.
The Cabin Loop is advertised in the course description as a plush 10-15 miles of awesome single track trail, and it lived up to expectations. I was reminded of the Pacific Northwest as the recent rain had drenched everything and the forest was foggy and moist as I jogged easily down the seven or so miles to the next aid station. As I reached the mileage where I knew the aid station would be visible any minute, I saw a couple of tents with food and water set up, and so naturally I assumed I had arrived. Comically, I had just about started refilling a flask when someone asked me what I was doing, looking totally bewildered. "Are you an aid station?" I asked. "I don't know what that is," she replied. So I almost stole some water from some confused campers! I apologized and moved sheepishly along the path and about a quarter mile down the road found the actual aid station at which I'd been eager to arrive. I can only imagine what those campers thought as this stinky, crazed looking fellow arrived wanting to take their water.
Leaving the Cabin aid, I was once again greeted with wonderful trails leading me gradually up to the third crew point at General Springs. I was still feeling great and ran all the rolling ups and downs with little effort, hoping I was holding enough in reserve for the final 50 miles. At General Springs I was able to pick up a pacer and my friend Michael Greer joined me for the final 50. Picking up a pacer is such a morale boost in any race and running with someone as talented and positive as Mike was such a pleasure! He and I will both be racing the Triple Crown of 200s next year and I hope we can share some miles during those events because he is one of the best, most positive people I've had the chance to run with. We scooted on down a steep descent to Washington Park aid and then came right back up the way we came.
The original Mogollon course didn't loop back on itself like this, but due to a fire the week of the race, the course was rerouted. I'd like to give some kudos at this point to Aravaipa and the race director Noah for handling the reroute with aplomb. Plan B didn't make the race any easier and kept the spirit of Mogollon well and truly alive. As Mike and I climbed back up the way we'd come down, we saw second and third place, about 30 minutes and an hour behind me, we estimated. We gained the rim and I looked at Mike with determination and said, "let's extend that gap."
And so we did. The next 20 miles were pretty much magic. I felt as good as I could have ever expected to, running up most climbs and running the flats around a nine minute per mile pace feeling almost effortless. To Mike's immense credit, he was just erupting with positivity, making me feel confident and keeping morale high. We ended up back at the Cabin aid and were in and out efficiently, heading back to General Springs to be crewed one final time before heading out for the final 25 or so miles.
At this last crew location I was feeling a little sleepy and so made the mistake of trying to drink an energy drink rather than relying on the caffeinated gels I'd been using for most of the race. I'd avoided stomach problems for 75 miles but almost immediately the energy drink upset my stomach and I'd be dealing with issues for the last marathon. A frustrating error, but one that was ultimately just a failed experiment.
We ran down the technical descent to Washington Park once more and then headed out on the rolling technical trails that make up much of the race below the rim. After mile 80 my energy levels started to dwindle, and I wasn't quite able to stretch my legs as much as I wanted on some of the descents. But with Mike's encouragement, I still managed to run up most of the climbs and keep my feet away from too many entanglements with the rocks that cluttered the course.
We made it to Hell's Gate aid and I was eager to get out as fast as possible and on the way to the final aid station at the Fish Hatchery. This was going to be a 10.5 mile section that would take us once more, albeit in the opposite direction, through the overgrown section that had led to the Myrtle climb earlier in the race. Navigating the grass at night was even more challenging than during the day and Mike aptly noted at one point that it reminded him of the scene in Jurassic Park when the group gets attacked by velociraptors. Thankfully, we avoided any potential negative encounters with wildlife but our speed slowed to a crawl. That being said, spirits were high and we were further buoyed when Mike got a good enough signal on his phone to find out that I'd extended my lead to second place to over an hour. At that point, navigating the rest of the technical sections became safety first: don't hurt yourself, don't make any stupid mistakes.
Advertised as 10.5 miles, but ending up on my watch as 12, we finally made it to the final aid station at the State Fish Hatchery and started on down the final four miles. I'd never been so happy to be on pavement and to turn my brain off, gliding down the gentle grade to the finish. I haven't won too many races in my career and it was a great feeling seeing the finish line and being able to move across it knowing that I'd done all I could do to complete the course as fast as possible and that my hard work had paid off.
After suffering a couple DNFs in brutal circumstances earlier this year, I signed up for Mogollon wanting a race to go off without a hitch. And it went better than I could have hoped for. I felt invincible for about 80 miles and then when I started to tire, my mind held it together and I was able to keep pushing all the way to the finish. With the reroute, it's hard to compare my time to previous years, but Edher Ramirez, who finished second this year and had run Mogollon twice before, said he thought the reroute was actually more challenging than the normal course. Now, I'm not making a claim either way, but I'll stick to his conclusion since it makes me feel just that extra bit better about my race!
Ultrarunning is in many ways a team sport, and I couldn't have run nearly as fast without my mother crewing me. She was amazing and efficient the whole time. And I owe so much to Mike for coming out and running 50 miles with me. He's an inspiring man and I'm lucky to have good enough friends willing to come suffer with me all night.
Mogollon is an awesome race, and if you want a 100 miler that's challenging in a unique and brutal way, it's the race for you. There's a reason the course record is barely under 21 hours and it's because so much of the terrain is so difficult to run. It's easy to look at the topography and think, "Yeah this is where I'll make up some time," but more often than not that flat section is going to beat you up way more than you think.
With Mogollon in the rear view mirror, I'm looking forward to the DC Peaks 50 as my next race in just about three weeks. Who knows how recovered I'll be and what kind of effort I'll manage to put forward, but I'm just happy to be back to finishing races. Thanks again to my mom and Mike and all the Aravaipa staff and volunteers that put on a great event. This is a crazy thing we do and it just wouldn't be possible without hundreds of hours of work from people trying to support the runners.
Awesome job, Kilian! Congrats on the Win and recover well.