I fell in love 3 times over during my last marathon, which was a 50K in Wyoming on June 19 of 2004: the Big Horn Mountains, my new Montrail Hardrock running shoes, and my new Smartwool socks. Oh yeah, life is good!

If you have never been, the Big Horn Mountains are definitely worth seeing. They reside in the North  Central part of Wyoming, very near the state line of Montana. Absolutely stunning,  diverse, gorgeous and wild – what more can I say.  So pretty, I plan on going back next year, just to soak up the sights once again.  I feel like a traitor even thinking this, but I think the Big Horns are even prettier than the Sierras. During the drive from Cody to the Big Horns, I saw deer, moose and wild horses, and obnoxiously took pictures of them all from the truck window. Kind of like someone coming to Ridgecrest and wanting to stop and photograph every jackrabbit along the road.

The Big Horn Wild and Scenic Trail Run is just that – Wild and Scenic. They forgot to add “remote” to the list of adjectives, though. As far as runs that are easy to get to, this ain’t one of them.  I had to take 3 airplanes to get to Cody, then a two-hour drive to Sheridan, Wyoming, where the pre-race briefing was held.  Kind of a waste of time, as the lady who gave the briefing was rather microphone-challenged and all I heard the whole time was something that sounded like “If you have to poo, go off the trail, take an overdose of Advil, drink beer, approach the elk,  and wipe with your race bib”.  I’m pretty sure that’s not what she said, but that’s what it sounded like!

The next morning, a 4am wake up call, a 20-minute drive to the next town over, Dayton, then an hour-long bus ride to the race start. The bus dropped us off an hour early out in the middle of nowhere, and it was 34 degrees. We all basically huddled around shivering, waiting for the race start, which (of course) started uphill.  The race started at nearly 8,000 feet elevation, so as you can imagine, we weren’t exactly off like racehorses.  At least I wasn’t. Besides, my legs were still covered with icicles – which prepared me for the hail that would pelt me later on.

So, over hill and dale we go. I had one of those “mystic moments” while crashing around through the forest, a feeling approaching Nirvana, the feeling that I could run forever. Of course that feeling only lasted a couple miles – all I’m in shape for – but it was fun while it lasted.

My friend Cindy Collins, who lives in Cody and who I had entered the run with, wasn’t feeling too well so we parted company at the 2nd aid station. I fully expected to see her at the finish line, cheering me in, and was shocked (but shouldn’t have been – the lady is tough as nails) to see her finish an hour or so after me. My hat’s off to Cindy! She hasn’t run in a marathon in a lot of years, her longest training run has been 10 miles, and I suspect there haven’t been all that many of them. Where do these lady friends of mine get their toughness?

The run featured one long, long (did I say long?) very steep downhill that started between two mountains and ended up in a gorge toward the bottom. I gawked at the scenery so many times that I more or less tumbled my way down the hill. My quads were tight as a drum after that long, steep downhill – I wished I had run in my bikini so I could show them off! Unfortunately, the tightness was short-lived and they were back to their normal marshmallow consistency by the next day.

The only negative aspect of the run was my quads were so incredibly sore (that long steep downhill really did them in) and at Cindy’s place I was staying in their basement guest room. The bathroom was on the first floor, and you know how it is after a long run, having to use the bathroom constantly. Up and down those stairs I climbed, time after time, with my quads shrieking obscenities at me each with each and every step. Oh, the things we do to ourselves in the name of fun…

Oh! Before I forget! The other two things I fell in love with besides the Big Horn Mountains.

At the race meeting, there was a small expo and there was a gal from Montrail there, who was giving everyone a free pair of Smartwool socks just for trying on a pair of Montrail runners. I just cannot pass up anything free, whether I need it or not, so I waited my turn. Well…those Smartwool socks are just divine and I would highly recommend them to anyone, for any kind of sport.  And the shoes! I didn’t want to take them off – it was love at first fit. I tried to buy the pair I’d tried on, but was told they were for demo only. So then I tried to steal them (just kidding!) So, Cindy and I drove all over looking for the Sports Shop, finally found it, and I bought myself a pair of Montrail Hardrocks, which I have to say, are simply the best and most comfortable trail running shoes I’ve ever worn. I committed the second cardinal sin of running (the first sin being to enter a run that my body was unprepared for, but I’ve broken that rule plenty of times and have always lived to tell the tale) and wore the shoes for the first time the next day during the 50K, and am happy to report that not a single blister formed on my feet. Awesome shoes. I want everyone to have a pair, and if I could, I’d buy a pair for you all!

Lessons learned about Wyoming: the folks there are no-nonsense, tough as nails, and they don’t believe in using sissy switchbacks to get up and down the mountains. When they say, “go up” the mountain, that’s exactly what they mean. Conversely, “coming down” the mountain means you barrel right off the side of whatever peak you’re on and more or less end up at the bottom, clutching at small trees along the way to keep from just rolling along. The aid station folk were the most helpful I’ve ever encountered, but I couldn’t shake the feeling of being judged like a livestock animal. As in:  “I dunno Fred, this one looks a little shaky to me. Think she’ll make it over the pass?” Heads in their cowboy hats shaking with disbelief that the flabby 43-year-old California mom in front of them would even consider entering their run. The folks from Wyoming are also very quiet – the few times I encountered someone along the trail (which was rare, I was kind of stuck in a little pocket all by my lonesome for the bulk of the day) passed me by with barely a word. I was so hungry for companionship! They apparently don’t believe in entering runs in order to visit with their friends. How odd. How very, very odd!

For those of you who are into statistics: There were several hundred people in the various runs – there was a 30K, 50K, 50 miler and 100 miler.  I ran (jog-walked) the 50K and finished in about 9:23.  My friend Cindy was just over 11 hours. And – although it was close – we weren’t last. There was an ancient looking fellow who appeared to have just received some type of surgery who was behind us. A scalp’s a scalp, right?