Race Report: Teton Mountain Runs Wild 15K

Last summer I learned about the Rendezvous Mountain Hill Climb, a trail running race in Jackson Hole that's considered “the most demanding hill climb running event in the West.” It looked like a fascinating challenge, with 1,250 m of elevation gain over 9.8 km, and until last year, it had never been done in under an hour. Needless to say, I’m nowhere near prepared to do something like that; I have little experience with trail running, and most of it is on flat terrain. But it got me intrigued about trail running races, so I looked at other less-demanding events in the area and discovered the Teton Mountain Runs series, which offers 50K, 30K and 15K races, all run on the hiking and mountain biking trails of Jackson Hole Mountain Resort in Teton Village, Wyoming. The Wild 15K race, with about 550 meters of elevation gain and no technical terrain or scrambling required, is described as “a great beginner option for those who don’t want to reach the elevation or distance of the 30K,” so I signed up for it earlier this year. I thought it’d be a good introduction to trail running races and add some variety to my training; I’d do it in place of one of my long runs and have a little fun. I knew I was taking a risk doing this with Ironman Canada coming up; I was specifically worried about hurting my knee again on the downhill portion of the race, but I had a plan. The race had a time cut-off at the top of the course, before starting the descent, so I’d run up the hill to make the time cut, and then take it easy and hike down at a leisurely pace to reduce the risk of injury. It felt like a calculated risk, but as it turns out, I’m pretty bad at math. The night before the race, I considered skipping and sleeping in, but after a bad bout of insomnia, I got up at 4:00 AM and got ready. I had also thought about skipping if the air quality was bad---we’re starting to get the seasonal wildfire smoke from the west coast in Jackson Hole. My personal AQI limit to exercise outdoors is 75, but on race morning it had dipped just below moderate, at 48. With no excuse to skip the race, I headed out the door shortly after dawn. I got to Teton Village at around 6:30 AM and spent a few minutes warming up in the parking lot before heading to the start line, downing a Maurten Caf 100 gel before the start. The race started at 7:00 AM on the dot; I stayed near the back and let the faster, more experienced runners go first, but soon after I started I got stuck behind people who were hiking up the trail. The race guide warned that walkers would not make the 9:45 AM time cut, so I started passing people, running at a pace that felt comfortable in terms of RPE and heart rate. This was a big mistake---I quickly realized my fitness exceeded my skills, so that “comfortable” pace was too fast for me to navigate the trail safely, especially in the downhill portions. By then the trail had narrowed down significantly to a singletrack barely half a meter wide through dense vegetation with steep drop-offs in some sections, and I was blocking people who wanted to pass me and couldn’t because I had no space at all to step aside, so I felt pressure to keep the pace up. I tripped a couple of times, but luckily was able to keep my balance and continue without falling. My luck would soon run out, though---big time. I had made it almost 5 km into the run when I tripped again on something---a root, I think---that was hidden from view by the foliage on the sides of the trail, and because I was going downhill, I was carrying too much momentum to recover and crashed hard on my shoulder, sliding along the trail a few feet and narrowly missing the steep drop-off to my right---I don’t know where I would have ended up if I had fallen off the trail. Fortunately, other than scrapes on my hands, arms and legs, and a mouthful of dirt, I wasn’t seriously hurt. I say “fortunately” because not a single person stopped to help---the guy behind me asked, “You good, bro?” but disappeared down the trail before I had a chance to answer, and three or four other people walked past me while I was on the ground. Nobody even gave me a hand. Maybe I should have just quit right then and there, but after dusting myself off and using my water bottle to rinse off my scrapes, I kept running, albeit at a slower, more careful pace. About 2 km later, the trail intersected a steep gravel service road running perpendicular to it. I was almost across when I stepped on a rock, which rolled to the side, and my foot went along with it. I heard a crack and felt blinding pain as my ankle stretched more than I thought was physically possible, and I hit the deck hard. The only thought that went through my head as I fell was shitshitshitshitIjustbrokemyfuckingankle but what came out of my mouth was the most bloodcurdling scream of my life, which this time did make a few people stop to check on me. I was on the ground clutching my ankle, certain that it was broken, when one of them kneeled next to me and started examining it. She seemed to have first aid experience, and noted it wasn’t swollen and nothing looked obviously broken. I was surprised I didn’t feel any pain as she examined my ankle, and I could still move my foot; I hoped the crack I heard came from the rocks I stepped on and not from my ankle. After I stood up and confirmed I could put weight on my ankle, she took off, telling me that we were close to the next aid station and that she would let them know I was coming (I regret not getting her name or bib number so I could thank her). At this point I was done with this fucking race, but the race guide said that dropping out was only permitted at the aid stations, except in case of a serious emergency, which would require calling Jackson Hole Ski Patrol; I figured this wasn’t one because I could walk and wasn’t in terrible pain. I couldn’t remember the exact distance the race guide said the aid station would be at, but I was almost at the halfway point of the race, so I thought it would be close and set off for it. It... wasn’t close. I ended up walking 5.1 km with 258 m of elevation gain on my twisted ankle, all banged up and covered in dirt and scrapes from both falls. My ankle didn’t hurt too much when I walked, and I even ran for a few seconds just to see if I could, but it was definitely tender so I didn’t want to take any chances. I went slowly and carefully, avoided putting too much weight on it, and watched my step to make sure I didn’t twist it again. On top of everything else, the mosquitos were an absolute menace and were driving me insane. At least I got to see a pika while I was crossing a talus field, the only thing that came even close to a highlight of my day. I love those little yodeling critters. I wish I had spent more time enjoying the view at least; this was the only photo I made. I had been hobbling along the trail for an hour and a half when I saw a man walking in the opposite direction. He came up to me and asked, “Do you know how far back is the injured guy?” I laughed and said, “You just found him.” We were less than 400 m from the aid station, so he walked me the rest of the way. The colors on this map denote pace; the black & white dot is the spot where I injured my ankle. After stopping there for a minute to eat a few Oreos and refill my water bottle, Ski Patrol drove me down to the urgent care clinic at the base of the mountain (ironically on the same service road where I tripped, so I could have saved myself a lot of trouble if I had just called them). There, they ran X-rays and confirmed that my ankle wasn’t broken, although it is sprained. Given that I was able to walk over 5 km on it, the doctor thought it wasn’t serious and that I’d probably even be able to return to training this week, but now that I’m home and it’s more swollen and painful than before, I’m worried the crack I heard was actually my ligaments snapping. The doctor said I should call an orthopedic specialist if I don’t see improvement in a week but I’m not going to wait that long; I’ll get an ortho appointment as soon as possible and get in front of this. With some luck it’ll turn out to be nothing serious and I’ll be able to race Ironman Canada next month, but I’m not feeling optimistic about it. I normally try not to beat myself up too much when I make mistakes during training or racing; it’s all part of the learning experience. That said, getting injured during a triathlon or during training is one thing---it sucks when that happens, but at least it's in service of a goal. This... is not that. This race was a completely unnecessary risk that wouldn’t have advanced my triathlon goals in any way even if it had gone perfectly, but it didn’t and now I’m paying for it with a potentially season-ending injury. Why did I think this was a good idea?! I feel like such a fucking idiot.