I started writing my account of the Desert Race Across the Sand (RATS) about two-weeks after I completed last September's race. Usually you want to write a report soon after an event, when the details and emotions are vivid and clear. It turned out to be the opposite case for this one. By the time I got through writing about events leading up to RATS and the first day of the race (of six days total) I was already at ten or more pages. Too much detail. The race just seemed too vivid in my mind. Other events I've had no problem explaining, but this one... well, how do you describe such a deep life-experience? So, sorry that this took so long, but here goes my second try:

Summary:
Desert RATS is a 6-day, 148 mile stage footrace put on by GeminiAdventures in mid-September. It is billed as a tough race in remote areas with high temperatures, being run on the Kokopelli trail from Loma, Colorado (near Grand Junction) to Moab, Utah. It is also billed as a race that most well trained runners could finish, even if they have never completed an ultramarathon before because the ultradistance stages have generous cutoffs. Although the format is similar to races like the Marathon des Sables and the Gobi March, one big difference is that you do not have to carry your weeks' worth of food, supplies, bedding, etc. Rather, Sherri Griffith Expeditions travels ahead of the runners, carrying their gear duffels, setting up camp and cooking excellent meals. Packs are still carried as the on-course aid is minimal - emergency gear is required, as well as some calories and plenty of water. (My pack tipped 20lbs on the long day.) The end of each day is about eating, recovery, preparing gear for the next adventure, discussing stage results and overall standings and especially about getting to know each other better than at any other type of race. 2004 was its first year, so the field was small (13 people) but the adventure was huge.

Prelude:
I wasn't sure I knew what I was getting myself into but it sounded grand enough. Six days, lots of mileage, through canyons and sand and heat, somewhat self-sufficient... Yeah, I'm always up for a big adventure like that. Never did well in the heat though. Training in Laramie, Wyoming lets me adapt to altitude, wind, cold, snow, but not heat. That made me a bit worried. I also worried that I would not be recovered from the Elkhorn 100K that I ended up running two-weeks before RATS started. Guess I'll just go see what happens. Turns out, having a sense of adventure and limited expectations can do wonders.

When my wife Kathy and I got to Moab the day before race-day, it was darn hot (at least for me - mid-90s) but didn't feel so bad. We set up camp and took a walk to race checkin. At checkin we had to go through the normal medical weight check, completed a brief biography (for our obituary in case we died???), let the director verify our required equipment and then pick up our big North Face expedition duffel bags that were given to us by the sponsors. These needed to be loaded with our sleeping bag, pad, extra shoes and clothes, toiletries and whatever else we needed for the week. They would transport the duffels to each camp for us every day - but only those duffels. If anyone wanted more, they'd have to carry in their packs. (The duffels were so big that most of us had room left over.) The best part of checkin was meeting the other 12 runners. It was an interesting mix of experience - some had completed Badwater, Marathon des Sables, Desert Cup, Eco-Challenge, numerous 100 milers, while others had never completed any ultradistance events at all. I fell into the middle somewhere, but wondered what would happen to the less experienced runners on the two ultradistance stages. Many of us bonded right away, knowing that we would have to watch each others' backs since there would be so few of us spreadout over such a remote, extreme area. That would be the theme of the race.

Day 1 - 19 miles
Late the next morning we nervously loaded duffels onto and boarded our shuttle bus for the starting line. Got to the start at the Kokopelli trailhead in Loma around midday. In the low 90s but we didn't mind. A few pre-race photos and off we went. Kevin and Eric took off pretty fast and I could see them on the other side of a few of the canyons as we ran. Spectacular scenery, high up above the Colorado River, running along the rocky rim. I had run on parts of this section before during the Spring Desert Ultra, but that didn't mean that I knew where I was going. You see, an adventurous part of this race is to follow the Kokopelli trail markers. There are no additional route markings except in the few places where you leave the trail to get to your camp. Some of the Kokopelli trail markers are old and faded or torn-off and are easy to miss if you are not looking carefully. (We had maps to help some as well.) A few miles down the trail I ran into Kevin, who told me that Eric had already taken a wrong turn. He thought that the route went left, while Eric disappeared on a trail to the right. We continued down the trail to the left and soon found the correct trail marker, wondering how far Eric went off course and if he would catch back up soon. At this point the trail was semi-rocky, so we are looking down, not noticing that the K trail takes an abrupt left. 8 of 13 of us missed the turn and dropped way down on the wrong side of a mesa. By the time we figured out that we had missed our turn and backtracked to the correct trail, we were getting very low on water and thinking that this was a bad way to start a 6 day race. I was VERY careful with watching for trail markers after that! Throughout the race most runners missed turns and added a few miles here and there. Anyway, by the time we reached the bridge over the river a few of us were ready to chance it by refilling our bottles in the brown, silty water. Luckily the race director was on a hill above us and yelled that water was just ahead. Not quite! Forty minutes of hot, sweaty climbing on switchbacks and we finally hit the water stop. Dehydration had set in and I trudged to the finish of the stage, not so sure that I would be able to recover for the long stage tomorrow. I picked at my chicken and rice, drank as much as my stomach would allow and crawled into one of the group tents. Because most of us had taken the wrong turn, some of the slower runners who stayed on course actually finished quite well...

Day 2 - 39 miles
At 6am race support called out that coffee was ready. That became our rooster call, rousing us for some tasty camp brew. I woke up feeling surprisingly refreshed. Gorgeous morning to be sitting in the desert sipping coffee, eating a bowl of oatmeal and fruit, packing gear and taping feet. The start was slow and mellow into some remote country. I started feeling quite good and pulled out my pastrami and pickle sandwich during a short climb. Oh, what a treat! Best food I'd ever had! After a nice climb up onto a mesa, I dropped to the first aid station on the course. Kathy handed me a cold Frappucino - something about them really picks me up - oh yeah, the caffeine. On I went, along a dirt road and onto a sandy two-track and into our first headwinds. Some runners found them difficult, but Wyoming has trained me to deal with the winds quite well. The majority of the stage was uneventful for me, but toward the end I saw that I was slowly gaining on Melissa and thought that I may be able to catch her. That might have happened if the evil fork in the road hadn't appeared... At this one juncture a road branched left and another right and there were NO TRAIL MARKERS!!! I looked for shoe prints, broke out my map, said a few choice words and finally decided to just take the road to the left. Well, the roads came together in about 100 feet and I just had to laugh. (Come to find out later that others had similar experiences at this juncture, including one runner that sat down with his map in the middle of the fork for quite some time and just could not figure out what to do, until a support vehicle drove through.) Got to the finish line in a respectable time, rinsed off in the river, hung out in camp under the Cottonwoods cheering other finishers in. Then we heard the news that two runners were coming in on a truck, they had dropped out. Who was it? Was it anything serious? Turns out the two runners were having stomach problems and knew that they were not going to make cutoff. It was sad for the whole group to see them come in. Then we all feasted on great pasta and garlic bread and all worries slipped away...

Day 3 - 9 miles
Having a short day after an ultra day is a great way to allow for recovery. One of my tentmates had blistered his feet so badly the day before that he was not sure he would continue. I encouraged him to start and mentioned that the cutoff was not an issue today so he could walk in and then spend the remainder of the day taking care of his feet. A few of us took off from the start quickly and finished the stage in a short period. Others took it easy knowing that tomorrow's 52 mile expedition stage was looming. Short day of running, long day of relaxing, soaking in the river, taking care of feet and eating lots of calories. And maybe worrying a bit about the monster waiting for us in the morning.

Day 4 - 52 miles
I started this stage very slowly, not sure how I would do on a 52 mile trek, with about 7000' of climbing, in hot, remote canyons, after already running for three days. From the start you can see the La Sal mountains way off in the distance - where the next camp sits. Since my pastrami and pickle sandwich worked so well last time, my wife handed me another - with extra pickles this time. I also carried close to 160 ounces of water today since the aid stops were far apart. That made for a very heavy pack. I'm glad that I do much of my training with a pack. Others however either packed lightly and ran out of water, flirting with disastrous dehydration or were getting good pack sores on their backs. (Kathy dressed more than one ugly pack blister.) The deep canyons we climbed through were incredible, and stifling at times. I think we recorded 102 degrees at one point. Even with all of that water, I ran out just as I got to the first aid station. Others ran out before, prompting the race director to get a 4x4 further up the trail with some water. I started to falter on one especially hot climb. Feeling weak and starting to feel my first blisters. After wrapping my feet in some duct tape, the blister pain went away. I did have 7 small blisters in strange places at the end of the stage, but that was my fault for not changing my socks once they got sweaty. High up the route you can look down into scenic valleys filled with "castle" formations - this was especially dramatic as the sun was starting to set. I faltered even more but as Elroy caught me we ran together to the last aid station, making it just as it got dark. It was probably 75 degrees, but after 100+ in the canyons, it sure felt cold. I bundled up and put my lights on for the last few miles descending to the finish. It was a lonnngggg few miles and tricky because you could see the camp lights from far off and could not really tell just how many more switchbacks you had to go to get to the bottom of this d%#m hill. Finally made it in, sat by a fire for a few minutes, nibbled some snacks and crawled into my sleeping bag. Seven more runners had to come in and some finally crossed at 3am. Hard day, but a 24 hour cutoff for 52 miles is very doable. My legs ached so badly that I could not sleep at first, then the ache went away, I drifted off and woke later when my tentmates arrived, and then woke again later with such bad night sweats that I soaked my sleeping bag and had to turn it inside out. Yow, what a day!

Day 5 - rest
Waking late, eating a hearty breakfast, we had a day off! A day to recover for the last marathon. We all got over the final hurdle and will surely be able to make it now. Some were comparing very ugly foot problems, including a foot that seemed to be more blister than not and a toe nail that looked like it was getting infected. One of the runners (from Texas) is a vet and told Melissa that a certain balm would help her toenail as "that stuffs so strong it could suck the pus through a hoofwall." Hmmm... good image. We got shuttled to a beach on the Colorado River and relaxed in the shade all day, dipping in the river when we got warm. Blisters dried out, muscles got recharged and minds were happy to know that the last day was in the bag.

Day 6 - 24 miles
We woke to light rain hitting the tents. Then as we got ready, wind whipped through the camp, kicking up sand and dust and equipment not held down. It was the first day not in the 90s. It was a cool 75 degrees and it (and the rain) felt good. It was decided the night before that the overall leader would start the stage 14 minutes ahead of everyone else, since he was 14 minutes ahead of 2nd place. He would be the rabbit. So, 14 minutes after he left, we started the hunt. I felt so good that I took off up the long paved climb (pavement was rare) and caught the leader by the top, having distanced everyone behind me. Woohoo! Of course, the leader and I then took a wrong turn and lost our lead. We worked together to get back into the race and eventually caught the one runner who had passed us. We were moving so fast that the next aid station had not yet arrived, so we shared water and just kept going. Kevin finished ahead of me, but only by 3 minutes, which meant I won the stage by 11 minutes. My first win ever! And to finish this week-long arduous adventure felt so good. We popped champagne and celebrated at the finish, cheering others in. I noted that I picked up a place overall and missed picking up another by just a few minutes. If I had only not gotten lost. Then we heard that Al, the retired Marine, had twisted his leg badly with 16 miles still to go and that he would not take assistance. Three of us drove up and met him 4 miles from the finish. We found him hopping along on one leg, the other tied in a shirt and bandana. We ran in with him, talking to keep his mind off of the pain - and what a dramatic way to finish this. Cheers and tears all around. We had become a family...