Last weekend, I had the absolute pleasure of pacing my friend Fred for the last 40 miles of the Wasatch 100. For those of you who are not familiar with the race, The Wasatch 100 is described as “one of the most uniquely challenging ultrarunning events in the world. It is a study in contrasts: peaks and valleys; trail and scree; heat and cold; wet and dry; summer and winter; day and night; Desolation Lake and Point Supreme; "I can't" and "I will!"
Dickens had the Wasatch in mind when he wrote, "It was the best of times; it was the worst of times." The primitive and isolated nature of the course is both its beauty and its challenge, for it requires the individual runner to rely primarily on himself or herself rather than the Race's support systems. Wasatch is not just distance and speed; it is adversity, adaptation and perseverance.”
Adaptation and perseverance. The beauty at the top of the mountain calls like a siren, yet as soon as you begin your ascent it leaves you panting and breathless.
The surface of the mountain is rocky and rough, yet beautiful plants and flowers cling affectionately.
You plead for a downhill, which turns out to be slick, craggy and unforgiving.
The sunset induces trepidation, but the radiation of sunrise brings optimism and promise.
I adore the mountains.
I’m quite sure it is the challenge of the crawl rewarded by the spectacular view from the summit,.
I treasure the eerie stillness and tranquility that cities cannot offer.
I am drawn time and time again to the grandeur. I feel accepted by nature. I am at peace.
One day I will call the mountains my home. Until then, I guess I'll sign up for the next race and keep climbing.