Monument Valley 50 Race Report - 2015

My name is Cory Reese and I have a problem. (Okay, not just one problem. Many problems. Including that I like cinnamon rolls too much and I know the words to way too many Taylor Swift songs.)

But the problem I'm referring to here is that I simply can not put my camera away while running. The scenery at the Monument Valley 50 miler over the weekend was jaw dropping. During those 50 miles I took an astounding 363 PICTURES! That is an issue. If you figure each picture takes an average of seven seconds to take, this adds an extra 42 minutes to my race! I'll talk with the race director about changing my official finishing time.

It seemed like it should be a requirement before the race to stop on the Forrest Gump highway to get a jumping picture.

I have been to Monument Valley a few times in the past and it has been one of my favorite places on Earth. The scenery is amazing and I'm fascinated by the Navajo culture. The race starts at the Visitor Center overlooking this iconic view:

I was nervous going into the race. Between the fact that I only have 9 toe nails now and a sore knee, my training was better suited for a half marathon than a 50 miler. I wasn't sure how my body would hold up. But I just couldn't pass up running here. A few miles after the race started we were treated to this beautiful sunrise:

One of my favorite parts (am I allowed to have like 15 favorite parts of the course?) was early on when we passed this enormous formation called Stagecoach. The rocks were glowing red.

This guy said "Keep your camera out. That's the only time I run."

Miles later we were running past East Mitten. I can't tell you how happy I felt to be running right through the middle of a postcard.

From here we ran a section called the North Window Loop. The views....oh my. For most of the race we were on trails that few people have ever seen before. This area is in the Navajo Nation and they have restricted access so we felt so fortunate to have this opportunity. Enormous thanks to the Navajo Nation for their hospitality and generosity. As runners we all felt so much gratitude for this privilege.

Next up was the 9.5 mile long Arches Loop where we got great views of Totem Poles in the distance.

I was around 30 miles into the race by this time. I wasn't feeling great but I wasn't feeling horrible. And after the bumps in the road over the last few months I had almost forgotten what it was like to feel unhorrible. Feeling unhorrible felt amazing! My toe and knee were both cooperating.

On paper, the Monument Valley course doesn't look too hard. The 50 miler only has 4,500 feet of gain. But anyone who ran the race will say that the course is much, much harder than it looks on paper. There are vast amounts of sand. Most of the course....sand. Deep sand. Relentless sand. Like the sand in the movie Neverending Story that swallows the boy's horse. Whether you were walking or running, making forward progress was difficult.

But here's the thing - nobody complained about the sand. The very challenging running conditions were FAR surpassed by the stunning beauty of the course. The people I talked to were beyond willing to do some sand slogging to drink in the beauty that was surrounding us. We all knew we were surrounded by something amazing, something spiritual, something special.

It was awesome to occasionally see Navajo men out riding their horses across the trails. How is that for a trail guide!

What goes up......

Must come down.

For me the icing on the cake was the view from the top of Mitchell Mesa. This was the section I had been looking forward to most. The amazing views come at a price. First you have to climb around 1,000 feet in less than a mile up a steep, rocky trail. But once at the top you are rewarded with the views of a lifetime.

I showed Mel this picture and she said "Wow, it looks like you took that from an airplane."

The cherry on top was getting a jumping picture from the top of the mesa with one of the mitten formations below me.

Once I reached the bottom of the mesa there were only four more miles to the finish line. I was treated to an amazing sunset as I ran to the horizon by the light of my headlamp.

Race finishers were given a handcrafted Navajo bracelet. There were many different colors. This is the one I chose.

I can't speak highly enough of this race. Being immersed in the scenery and culture was an experience I will never forget. Go visit the Ultra Adventures website HERE and get this race on your radar. (They have a 4 mile, 25k, 50k, 50 mile, and 100 mile race.) The race is a little out of the way. Chances are you'll have a scenic drive to get there. But it is well worth it. Just like for me, you will have the experience of a lifetime.

I must thank Altra for some awesome shoes to keep my feet happy. (I wore the Olympus all 50 miles.) And Tailwind Nutrition for being my only fuel for the whole race. (Except the last aid station when I had a gluttonous moment involving excessive amounts of chocolate cake.) And St. George Running Center for being the wind beneath my wings and carrying the gear I need. And UltrAspire, their Omega pack had plenty of room to carry all the gear I needed. And the Navajo Nation for their support of this amazing event.

Finally a huge thanks to Matt Gunn and the Ultra Adventures gang for an awesome race. I have seen what goes on behind the scenes to put something like this together. I have come to love the Ultra Adventures crew of Matt, Rick, Turd'l, George, and Mikey for their passion and dedication. Thanks for an incredible 50 miles.

Want to see more views from this stunning race? I put together this video highlighting the awesomeness of Monument Valley. Enjoy!

Monument Valley 50 in 3 Days & UltrAspire Sponsor!

I feel overwhelmed with gratitude and excitement right now for two reasons:

1) I'm running the Monument Valley 50 miler in precisely three days. Months ago I had hoped to do 100 miles but with a toe that looks like I accidentally put it inside a wood chipper, I think 50 miles would be more prudent.

Monument Valley is one of my absolute favorite places on Earth. The Navajo culture, the expansive, spiritual beauty, the environment......it's truly breathtaking. My goal for the race is to barely make cutoffs, spend as much time as I can squeeze out on the course, and get some pictures beautiful enough to make grown men cry.

I took this picture years ago when I visited last. Even though it is simple, out of the thousands of pictures I've taken in my life it remains one of my favorites.

2) I am beyond excited to become the newest member of the UltrAspire athlete team! These guys make the finest hydration packs, waist belts, and bottles on the market. I've been using their stuff for years and absolutely love it. My favorite is their Omega pack that has plenty of storage space to get me through 100 milers.

If you want to save a few bucks you can use discount code uaa5210 at checkout for 10% off orders from their website.

An awesome weekend is on tap at Monument Valley. Grown men: prepare to cry. 

A Naughty 4 Letter Word In Front Of My Kid - The Doctor Made Me Do It

THIS is what the doctor's office looks like in Hurricane, Utah.

And how would I know such a thing? Because, well, I was there last night.

You see, my life has been all sorts of cra-cra since the Jackpot Ultramarathon on February 14th. In the middle of running that 50 miler I kicked a rock which hurt like the dickens. And by "hurt like the dickens" I mean that it felt like an ostrich snapped off my big toe.

Recently I documented my lack luster treatment of the black toenail. Even after that traumatic experience the dumb toe has continued to hurt like the dickens. And by "hurt like the dickens" I mean that I could feel my heart beat in my toe. I wish I was exaggerating.

Two nights ago I attempted another low budget surgery session in my bathroom. Long story short most of the toenail is gone now leaving an exposed nail bed that hurts WAY worse than the dickens. WAY. WORSE.

At this point I could insert a picture of the hideousness that is my toe. I have no doubt that if I did this I would immediately have no friends. Jeff Probst from Survivor would show up in my living room and say "Cory....the tribe has spoken." And I'd be voted off the island. Trust me, it looks downright heinous.

Mel convinced me that I should probably go to the doctor to get it checked out. And Mel thought it wise that she come with me to provide moral support because she knew I might need to get the rest of the nail removed. Which would mean getting shots in my toe. And honestly I can think of exactly zero things that sound more horrible than getting shots in your toe.

My youngest daughter came too because her school had been on lockdown earlier in the day due to a reported kidnapper and we didn't want to leave her home. While I agreed to her coming, I was not thrilled with the idea that my daughter would see me screaming and sobbing like a school girl if I did indeed get the nail removed.

As we sat in the waiting room I was quivering with fear. I was cold and clammy. "Please, please, in the name of all things holy please don't make me get shots in my toe."

Then my name got called to come back to see the doctor. I immediately forgot that my daughter was sitting next to me and a naughty 4 letter word unintentionally popped right out of my mouth. In her ten years of life Kylee has never heard me swear. The look on her face resembled her shocked disdain when she found out how babies are made.

The story has a happy ending. The doctor said he didn't need to remove the rest of the nail. No shots! It took every ounce of will power to not hug him while softly whispering "I love you."

Church Rocks - No Words

A few days ago I had a welcome visit with my dear old friend the Church Rocks Trail. It is a little slice of heaven in southern Utah. Here is a (mostly) narration-free glimpse of the trail and all its glory.

Forgive me, here is the only tidbit of narration. I had been watching this bird float through the sky for a few minutes. It seemed to be soaring in a similar pattern so I wanted to try to get a shot of it floating with the mountains in the background. I only got one chance and got lucky:

Dear Church Rocks: I love you.

The Traumatic Treatment of a Black Toenail

I entered mental health therapy to help me cope with the trauma I have experienced over the last few days as the result of my toenail. The therapist said that sharing about this trauma might help me cope with PTSD.

This traumatic experience started a week and a half ago when I ran the Jackpot Ultra Running Festival. Around mile 30 I accidentally kicked a rock. At that moment it felt like my big toe got struck by lightning. The agony was worse than exposing your ear drums to 1,000 Justin Bieber songs. (As if there is anything worse than listening to 1,000 Justin Bieber songs.) 

I had never done anything like this before. I was reduced to a painful hobble where lightning struck my toe with every step. I did some inspection and knew it wasn't broken because it was only the toenail that hurt.

Fast forward a week. My toenail still feels like a filing cabinet is sitting on top of it. On the Trail and Ultra Running Facebook page I posted this question: "A week ago I accidentally kicked a rock with my big toe while running. Woops. Sweet mother of pearl, it hurt so bad. And.....it still hurts so bad. At work I walk normal so I don't look silly, but I probably need a stick in my mouth from clenching my jaw with each step. Any tips on this that don't involve a needle in my toe or pliers?" 

The consensus was that the toenail needed to be drained. And many people suggested DRILLING A HOLE THROUGH MY TOE NAIL to drain fluid and relieve pressure. There are two problems with this: 

1) I'm pretty sure drilling holes through toenails is some kind of torture that Al-Qaeda uses against prisoners of war; and

2) I have a GIGANTIC fear of needles. I pass out when I get my blood drawn. And you want me to put a needle through my toe nail??????? You're more likely to see Richard Simmons' "Sweatin' To The Oldies" become popular again before you see me put a needle into my toe.

But here's the thing: I was desperate. Desperate! That dumb toe hurt so bad that I was willing to try anything. There were many suggestions on how to inflict this POW torture on myself. And part of my soul shudders even mentioning these things:

1) Heat up a needle until it's red hot and then insert it into the toe nail

2) Heat up a paperclip until it's red hot and then insert it into the toe nail

3) Get a small drill bit and work a hole into the toe nail

I'm not kidding people! These were real suggestions! And from lots of people. 

So what did I do? Yep. I tried all three of those suggestions. 

At first I planned to have my wife stick the needle in. She's a nurse. She knows what she's doing. But I was so mortified, I mean absolutely mortified at the thought of this, that I chickened out. When my daughter happened to walk into the bedroom seeing Mel approaching my foot with a needle and a lighter she literally acted like she had just seen a poltergeist. 

(That orange polish on my toes is from the same daughter who asked to paint my toes before the race.) So, yeah. I chickened out. I decided I'd try to do it myself. Drill bit? Fail. Heat the paperclip until red hot then push it into the nail? This worked better. Except for the minor detail that I could smell my flesh burning and I almost barfed and/or passed out. 

I finished off the job with a burning hot needle. I pray to God that my mother doesn't read this post. This will be the tipping point in convincing her that I have lost all my marbles. In all seriousness our bathroom looked exactly like the bathroom of a crack cocaine addict.

In the end this traumatizing experience was only mildly successful. Turns out you probably shouldn't wait a whole week after something like this to drain the fluid. My toe nail doesn't really feel too much better. (I know what you're thinking. "Duh! You just drilled a hole into it Einstein!") I ended up trying another trick of poking a needle under the nail bed. That worked better and was far less disturbing than the realization that I was burning a hole into myself.

So here are the morals of the story:

1) Don't kick rocks.

2) Don't listen to 1,000 Justin Bieber songs.

3) Nothing in the history of all mankind is as disturbing as smelling one's on toe nail melting. 

4) You're not a real ultrarunner until your bathroom looks like you're a crack addict.