Is it for the long ride in pre-dawn darkness on a chill August morn? Is it the anticipation as we wait for the start? Is it the determination to win the battle for sleep the night before? This last piece of the puzzle, that we have so little control over, may dominate our day.
The Heat Wave is already off. The 40th running of the Big Sky Wind Drinkers Ed Anacker Bridger Ridge Run has begun. Lightning flashes, thunder booms. A cold rain begins to fall. Not sheeting, but steady. We all bunch together under trees. Will Wave 1’s start be delayed? The announcer calls out “1 Minute to Wave 1’s start.” There will be no delay. The starter yells go! Wave 1 heads out wearing the jackets they had planned to put in their drop bags. The rain continues, most of us keep on our jackets as subsequent waves set off. It’s stormy. The ridge might be windy. More weight, but less risk. Maybe the chance to face adversity is why we are out here.
We prepare so long for these races each year. We spend months training; we block out time for cross-training and rest. There are young moms in the crowd, I met two that each have 3 young children. That they do this amazes me. I expect that it takes a village, a supportive family at least. To show the little ones what is possible, maybe that’s the reason to be out here.
The first runners are up on Sacajawea Pass; At 73, Jim, the oldest runner in the race turns and waves as he makes his way up Sac
The weather quickly improves. A few gusts of wind as we climb Sacajawea, but that is all. A whiff of smoke, but that is all. It’s a gorgeous morning. Maybe this is why we do it. The rush of an early morning of intense effort shared among kindred spirits.
The view from the top of Sac is our return for completing the first big challenge of the race. A line of colorfully clad runners racing along a sinuous trail that follows the wave of the ridge. The southern Bridgers fully in view in the grey light of this cloudy morning. Maybe we do it for the views.
We drop off Naya-Nuki. The descent is steep, with loose rocks and dangerous drop-offs. We accelerate down, down, and down until we reach the Foothills Trail and then down some more. We lose more elevation going down than we gained climbing Sac. This is the fastest part of the course. The trail is narrow, rocky, organized scree in some sections. We fly along it. Maybe the need for speed is why we are out here.
We climb to Ross Pass, to the first full-service aid station. Orange slices and banana halves are laid out along with salty snacks, water and Tailwind. Volunteers jump up to help us. What do you need? It’s a community effort. Maybe being part of it is reason enough to be out here.
Saddle Peak looms in the distance, Allison in the foreground; Sherri and Emily in the foreground
The hardest part of the course begins. We climb the Wall of Death, we roller coaster up and down the highs and lows of the ridge, we stop at the Bridger Aid Station for more support, then we make our way to Saddle Peak. It’s 2,300 feet of climbing in less than 5 miles. By the time we top out on Saddle, we are feeling the strain. Maybe this is why we are out here. The pain-cave, the sufferfest, the desire in us humans to test our limits. How much can we endure?
A line of runners climb Saddle Peak; Julia in the foreground
I asked a few first timers who I ran with for short periods, why they were there. Their answers varied in how they were expressed, but “Because it was there,” captured the sentiment. After a few years of living here, they just had to give it a try. Maybe that’s part of why we are all out here. The Bridgers are always present. We ski them in the winter, we run and hike them solo, or with family, friends, visitors, and pets. They are part of us. Given that this crazy race exists, at some point it just pulls on us. It is there, waiting until we dare to take a chance.
We climb Bridger Peak; we can begin to hear Baldy Crew’s party calling to us. The last full aid station, the beginning of the 4,000-foot descent. If we aren’t in the pain-cave yet, we soon will be. Food, drink, helpful volunteers, music, pink flamingos and the opportunity to do a keg stand all greet us. Some zip through, still focused on their times. Others take 5, dance, maybe test whether they can keep down a swig of beer. Maybe this is why we do it. Just to be part of something bigger than ourselves.
Halfway is our last chance to take a break before the final, steepest 2,000-foot descent begins. Racers are tired, feet ache. The trail is marbles on talcum. There’s not too much farther to go. We tough it out. Maybe this is why we do it, to prove to ourselves that we can.
We all have our reasons; we all may have many reasons. For all these reasons, I’m just glad that I am still able to be out there. At a few points along the course, I sang out to anyone within earshot, “Not dead yet!” That’s all the reason I need to be out there.
Perfect write up. Nicely done my friend. Keep raging!