Sunflower Iron 35K - Twisp, WA

Ah, an early Spring trail run in the gorgeous Methow Valley. Getting to visit the delightful little Western towns of Mazama, Winthrop, and Twisp, and, the Okanogan in general, which is an outdoorsmen's paradise. Just as I was getting mildly stir-crazy from the endless days of monochrome gray skies and perpetual drippy rain of Seattle I had the opportunity to head over the North Cascades Highway the weekend after it's annual Spring opening. I had 4.5 hours of solid window time to think about my weekend, the origin of navel lint, and why we can send a man to the moon but can't seem to explore the deepest reaches of the oceans on our own planet. I was stumped and it kept me going.

All along the upper reaches of the cascade loop there were huge 4-6 foot high piles of densely packed snow. As I crossed Rainy Pass at 4,855' and descended into the Methow Valley I was struck by the shift in climate and ecosystem from the Western side of the Cascades. The air was drier, crisper and the skies sunnier. The trees were not covered in coats of bright green moss anymore. The deer weren't wearing raincoats. The birds weren't dodging rain drops. I had just come from drizzly rain and blank grayness and was heading into a dry, sunny play land populated by healthy, over-achieving, super athletes, small herds of cattle and Ponderosa Pine trees. My mood improved immeasurably and so did my motivation to run the 27th Annual Sunflower Iron Event. Not to mention that I was going to be staying in Mazama with Chris and Nellie Casey, friends whom I hadn't seen in nearly 5 years...I know, I'm bad! It was going to be a good weekend running and seeing old friends. Game on.

I arrived on the Casey's doorstep around 9pm Friday night, a little bedraggled from the long drive. Chris was at work pulling a 24-hour shift managing the E.R. at Brewster hospital while Nellie was managing the home front with the kids. It was nice to catch-up with Nellie while she fed me some tasty home-made chili. We talked late into the night. At 5:30 am, I awoke from a deep sleep trying to figure out what the bright orange orb was and then realized that it was the sun poking over the horizon! I felt like was coming out of hibernation. This was already shaping up to be a nice day. After some last minute early morning prep, I drove 30 minutes to the Twisp River Pub for race check-in and to take a shuttle bus to the starting line in Mazama along with the other folks. The skies were clear, the sun was shining, there wasn't a stitch of wind about and the temperature was a cool 45F. Perfect trail running conditions.

This is a 22.1 mile point-to-point trail run that begins at 1900 feet of elevation in Mazama and finishes at 1600 feet in Twisp, with a total elevation gain of about 1900 feet. The course includes narrow deer trails, rocky cow paths, undulating Mt. bike routes and a few short paved road sections that criss-cross some of the most scenic public and private lands that I've seen outside of Austria (picture 'The Sound of Music' in your mind). In some sections you run through mountain meadows filled with sunflowers and along small lakes. I started humming "...my heart wants to beat like the wings of the birds, that rise from the lake to the trees..." I know, it sounds corny but it really felt like that. No kidding.

A quick point of fact: the Sunflower Iron Event's namesake flower isn't actually a sunflower but instead a look-a-like more accurately referred to as the Balsam Root. I guess the Balsam Root Iron Event and Relay didn't sound too appealing so they went with Sunflower. Probably a smart move. At this time of year, the Balsam Root is popping-up everywhere in the Methow Valley. The hillsides are practically carpeted with them. Thankfully they weren't pollinating yet or they would've had to serve Claritin and Kleenex at the aid stations along with the Gu. That'd be a gross combo.

The race started at 8:30am at Brown's Farm in Mazama. As we all jumped around trying to stay warm and looking like fleshy pogo sticks I started talking with a nice gal from Renton who was running two legs as part of a relay team. She was training for a triathlon this summer. We chatted and ran together to the first aid station. After that, I was running pretty much by myself for the remainder of the race as I passed folks or was occasionally passed by a number of well-conditioned 50 and 60 year olds. It was humbling. Fortunately, my race strategy is fairly simple: I like to run negative splits so I tend to start races at the back of the pack, running slowly as my body warms up and gets into gear. I find that passing people, especially in latter stages of a long run, is a very rewarding experience and gives me momentum along the way. Those little milestones keep me focused on the task of just crossing the finishing line.

The section between aid station #1 and #2 has the paved country road. Very boring section. I was glad to be done with it. Once I left aid station #2, the herd began to thin out and I saw our first and longest climb of the race. But first we had to navigate/cross some bog-like spring-fed sections which were very muddy with standing water. I don't think anyone was able to avoid the glop. One woman in front of me stumbled through it until her feet were covered in muck. It was funny. I wasn't even trying to avoid it because I love mud. Right after the muck came a nice long climb, the first real climb of the race. It was fairly steep for about 1/4 mile but eventually leveled-out into a nice gradient. It was followed by some pleasant rolling sections and a few more short grunt sections that I just power hiked. This course has so many different types of terrain I could write about it for hours. Suffice it to say that there is something for everyone (except sand thankfully).

I don't even remember Aid Station #3 so it must not have been too memorable. Aid station #4 is located just after one of the small lakes you pass. It's at the base of a steep but short climb that takes you into more mountain meadows via single-track. It's just so darn beautiful that you almost forget that you're running through it. As we approached aid station #5, I was not happy to see a longish steady climb up a switch-back but then I remembered the profile map - this was the last real climb! Thankfully, as we crested the top of that pitch, we were rewarded with a nice view of the valley. As you leave this section you immediately encounter a narrow single-track trail just wide enough for your feet but covered in sharp rocks of all sizes and with plants that overhang the trail. Basically, you can't see directly in front of your feet or where your feet will land. I was running on a fairly empty tank at this point and was just putting myself into the hands of the trail running gods hoping that they would ensure that I didn't twist an ankle or blow-out a knee. It was nuts. At about this point the trail descends sharply and steeply into a quad-burning controlled free-fall that only ends when you reach the bottom. I thought for sure that I was going to fall on my face, and that just doesn't happen to me. Or, at least it hasn't yet.

At the bottom, I was thinking that I had conquered the run. Dumb. I was looking for the finish line but then realized that not only could I not see it I couldn't even hear cheering. I thought "Could I really be that far away?" The short answer was "yep". I had to run another 2 miles on flat horse tracks. Why didn't the course map show this part? Talk about a tough section. It was as difficult mentally as it was physically. Only when I was within about 250 feet of the finish line did I actually realize that I had made it. Whew, I was done!!!

But that's not really the end. I still had a half-mile walk back to the Twisp River Pub for beer, the free potato bar and some fun conversation in the sun with fellow runners while they held an hour long drawing for a ridiculous number of random prizes (I think everyone got something - shoes, socks, hydration pack, etc). The MVSTA organized an awesome event and deserve big kudos! I met Chris, Nellie and their two daughters at the pub after thumbing a ride from a very nice local (everyone's super friendly in the Methow and I wasn't about to make the walk). We scarfed down a big order of nachos like there was no more food left in the town. And Chris got me to try a strange British concoction where you mix two-thirds of a glass of IPA with one-third Seven-Up. Those wacky Brits. It was actually quite refreshing, but I'm not sure that I can actually order it by myself given that I don't have a British accent. There's probably a bartending rule for this.

What did I learn? I obviously didn't hydrate properly, especially in a fairly dry climate. And, I didn't fuel properly either. I burned way more calories than I ingested. And, I had no idea how tough running 22 miles could be physically or mentally. Finally, I was pissed that I had forgotten to bring my small digital camera to take pictures of the awesome scenery and vistas. Who knew? It was a great learning experience though. This is one of those memorable trail runs that will probably become an annual event for me. I'll just have to go back next year. Oh well, poor me.