Nate Wangerin Finishes San Juan Solistice 50 Miler

I have known Nate since 10 years ago, when he was a youngblood college freshan, and I was coaching him to his first triathlon at University of Missouri.  Since then he has graduated, started a family with 3 beautiful children, and become the owner of multiple companies.

One thing I have admired about Nate is that even with all his life responsibilities, he continues to take on endurance goals.  He works hard, and is a dedicate husband and father; yet he still makes time to take on some hard training.  So when he called me up and said he was thinking about doing a 50 miler I knew two things: 1) This would push Nate to the limits of his abilities, and 2) I would do anything I could to help him complete it.

Nate (on right) and I after a training run at The Flat Irons in Boulder, CO.

As an adviser I helped Nate develop a weekly and monthly training template and advised him on nutrition.  Then whenever he called me worried about setbacks and challenges, I just reminded him to get plenty of recovery, lots of short east sessions, and focus on knocking out those long runs.


San Juan Solistice
Lake City, CO
Nate Wangerin
13:38 (1st 50 Mile Run Finish)

READ NATE'S RACE REPORT CLICK BELOW

Located 5 hours south west of Denver, hidden from all urban tracks, Lake City, CO was my destination on Friday afternoon.  I was driving there to accomplish the goal I set out to complete this year.  The San Juan Solstice 50 (SJS 50) is a 50 mile trail running race, considered by many to be the hardest 50 mile running race in the country.  This race was my annual physical goal.  I have focused on this for months.  I have ran miles and miles, ate healthy foods, and abstained from alcohol for the past two weeks. “A long day in the mountains” is how the race director described it to ease my nerves; a long day in the mountains it certainly was.

Nervous - 4:55am – dark, cold, and nervous I stood at the starting line.  My plastic rain jacket stuck to my arms, my water bottle made my hand feel like ice, and legs felt like they should still be in bed.  Was I ready for this?  It was only minutes before the race that I got excited and felt truly ready to undertake the challenge ahead of me.  My trail shoes had been cleaned, I was wearing my favorite shorts (a birthday present from my wife) and I had trained for this.  The weather was scheduled to be perfect this day and I was ready, ready to run for 50 miles in the high mountains of Colorado.  Was I really ready?

First Steps - 5:00am – The gun went off and my GPS watch still wasn’t reading the satellites.  I thought, “oh well, I will just hit start and wait until it gets caught-up, at least I would be able to keep time.”  The first two miles were on a dirt road leading outside of town.  It was definitely up hill but nothing too steep.  Nearly 200 other runners trotted around me, chit chatting along the road.  I could hear people talk about the last race they did two weeks ago and the races they planned on doing later in the year.  I hear about their marathons, 50K trail races, other 50 miles races and old stories of 100 milers.  Blisters, stomach aches, cramps – PR’s training secrets, and other successes were typical topics.  I nestled in behind a small group of three men that looked fit and fast.  “Keep it slow, Nate, you have 50 miles out here today.”  The pace felt good and relaxed, probably an 8:00 mile.  I felt good, I was confident, bolstered by those around me I was ready for the race.

Stream Crossing – Miles 3-5 – Off the dirt road we started our single track journey up the mountain.  We followed a swollen spring stream, criss crossing around it nearly a dozen times.  Each time was something different: deep sections, fast running water, or rocks to hop across.  At times there were tree logs to walk across (Do I want to risk falling in and being completely wet…Na, I’ll just blast through and have wet feet.  After all, I will be here all day, my shoes should dry sometime.”  The ascent started to get steep.  “Oh shit, was I prepared to climb?”  We were reduced to a fast power walk, dragging ourselves up higher and higher as the sun rose higher and higher.  There were still shadows everywhere and at mile 5 I twisted my ankle.  I rolled my ankle while training a couple of months back and feared this would happen.  Now it happened and only at mile 5.

The Real First Hill – Miles 5-10 – With the sun completely up we rounded a corner putting us in a beautiful green valley.  I scanned the scene for the trail, hoping to prepare myself for the next few steps.  As my eyes followed it, my head tilted further and further back as the winding trail seemed to lead straight up to the sky.  I have never been in more awe filled with fear and excitement at the same time about this next physical challenge.  This was going to be fun.  10 minutes later…ok, what did I get myself into…this hurts.

When we blasted through the trees I was relieved to see the end of the climb.  Up, way up in the distance was the sight of a bare mountain top.  A rocky, brown mountain top was an easy target as my steps got shorter and my breathing grew heavier.  “What this, we turn left and keep climbing?  Wow, the trail seems to never end.

Finally Down Hill – Miles 10-15 – Finally at the summit nothing can be seen for miles accept spots of runners and mountains.  The first 50 yards were so steep down hill that I have to keep my hands behind me touching the rocks and ground to keep upright.  I thought my pace would be increasing but I think I went slower.  Quickly the trail leveled out enough to cruise.  A 6:00-7:00 mile pace, lactic acid washed from my legs, I relaxed and blood was flowing.  “This is fun again.”  The relief caused me to look at my surroundings.  I should have packed a camera.  In all of my time growing up in Colorado, I have never seen mountains this beautiful.  I passed other runners more cautious than I was as I leaped from rock to rock, spinning my legs as fast as I could, letting gravity do all the work. 

I approached two slower runners in their own rhythm on a single track section.  “Slow down; keep your distance until you can pass.”  Just then I found myself horizontal in the air, I twisted my ankle on an exposed root and was falling.  I turned to land on my shoulder and back, sliding down the hill 15 feet.  “Are you ok?”  “Yeah, fine.  Thanks for asking.”  I got up and limped the next mile.  My ankle started to loosen up and I was off and running again, a bit more carefully.

Up Hill Again – Miles 16 – 22 – Through a campground we began our second large climb.  The runners that I left the aid station with had been here before.  All warned that this climb was worse than the first.  We trotted at our casual 8:00-9:00 pace and the trail got steeper.  Off the road and onto the trail the grade immediately went up.  The grade seemed to be 45 degrees.  I was amazed that trails this steep even exist.  A few steps in and we were power walking.  A few more steps and we were all separated.  A few more steps and my hands were on my hips, my lungs burning, my felt legs like logs, and my motivation was flat.  I put my set up my iPod and started my “race play list.”  Hopefully this would get me into the rhythm I needed to make it to the aid station.

The Divide – Miles 23-32 – Finally made it to the aid station, only three more miles of climbing before 6 miles of rolling hills along the continental divide.  People say once you finish the climb you can really move along the divide.  I cram down a ham sandwich, re-fill my water bottles and leave with a handful of M & M’s.  3 more miles, 3 more miles, 3 more miles.  I chant this to myself as I take step after step higher and higher.

Just like the first summit, this one never seems to end.  The mountain seems to grow in front of me teasing us.  Blue skies and a hot sun are quickly forgotten as 30-60 MPH winds build a wall in front of us.  I was run/walking on the steepest terrain I had climbed, at over 13,000 feet, against that hardest headwind I had ever faced.  This truly was the physical and mental challenge I was looking for.  Could I finish this?  Was it going to prove to be too much?

Finally the summit, I got ready to feel my legs gain strength and start running hard again.  What’s this, they still hurt.  6 miles of rolling hills at 13,600 feet, not enough O2 to recover.  I stop and look around me.  “Wow, nothing but mountains and snow fields as far as I could see.  This is the most beautiful scene I have ever laid eyes on.  It hurts, but I am glad to be here today.”

I begin to descend, climbing 6 foot snow banks and slide down them.  This is pretty cool.  I shuffle forward, 9:00-10:00 minute pace.  My legs begin to go numb and my breathing becomes more controlled.  Shit, glad I brought some TP with me.  Long-Slow intensity.  This can work. 

Found My Rhythm – Miles 33-40 – Rolling for 3 miles, and down hill for 4 miles.  I walk every incline and shuffle at a 9:00-10:00 pace every down hill and flat section.  The first two miles came after a 10 minute break at the aid station.  I shouldn’t have taken that long, my legs felt like crap and I wanted to quit with every step.  Suddenly, after a couple of miles my motivation is back, my legs start to feel good and I push faster.  Maybe it’s because we are below tree line again, or maybe because I get closer to finishing, maybe something else entirely…I am just glad to be motivated again.

I focus on the next runners off in the distance and slowly real them in.  I seem to gain strength with every exhausted runner I pass.  As the trail drops lower, steeper, rockier I begin to feel the pain in my knees grow.  I gingerly step down the hill, gently placing my feet so I don’t twist my ankle again.  “Man this is great!”

Last Big Hill – Miles 40-45 – “How’s it going Nate?” the race director asks me at the aid station.  “This is great, tough, but great,” I respond.  I stay standing through this aid station stopping only to re-fill my bottles.  No way do I want to feel like I did last time.  No sitting down this time.  I shoot out of the aid station.  .5 miles flat before a 4.5 mile climb back up to over 11,000 feet.

Through thick aspen trees the trail begins to go up.  Hands on my hips again, breathing labored again, legs numb again, I tell myself that this it is, just one foot in front of the other.  My steps are slow but consistent.  The sun is high and hot now and my sweat dries quickly on my neck.  The trail grows tighter.  If it weren’t for the foot prints in the mud and the broken grass and weeds, I may not have found my way. 

I look down at my watch for the first time in what seemed like hours, “crap, my batteries died.”  I have no idea how long I have been out here.  Sometimes it seems like minutes, sometimes it seems like days.  The euphoric feeling consuming my head is completely new.  Visions of my dad waiting to encourage me further up the trail as it bent around the hill through the thick trees kept me moving.  I stop to pee, dark yellow and limited; I need to drink more water.  What’s this, my bottles are both empty.  I churn forward as the trail levels out.

This Is It – Miles 45-50 – Through the last aid station my bottle are filled and I can taste the finish line.  I know I will make it under the cut-off time.  My legs drive forward, I duck under fallen trees and hurdle others.  I move at what feels like a lightning pace and pass more and more exhausted bodies.

The trail begins to fall and I can now see glimpses of the town when the trees break open.  My knees hurt again and I quickly find myself reduced to a hobble.  Only a few more miles to go and my knees reduce me walking down the steepest down hill section of the race.  I should be flying, I tell my legs to turn over and my knees quickly stop them.  On step at a time I make it down.

Only one more mile of flat dirt roads to the town park.  I start to “run” again.  “Is this trot even considered running.”  I suppose that after 50 miles I could crawl and consider it running.  I hear the blow horn and race director announcing finishers.  “Nate Wangerin from Commerce City, CO, in a time of 13:30, a first time finisher.”

I cross the line, walk to the food table and ask for a beer.  “What no beer, I guess I’ll settle for water.”