#runtherut

In early September, I joined a couple thousand other trail runners exploring the landscape of Big Sky Ski area and the inner depths of our sanity while running the Rut Mountain Race. The W.A. Franke College of Forestry & Conservation was well represented with faculty, staff and students in every race: 11k, 28k, and 50k.

Back in April, a staff member said I should sign up for the Rut, but I had no idea what I was getting in to at the time. I was recruited on the notion that a “bunch of faculty and staff do the run” and that it was “a lot of fun.”  Although the first part was true, the second part regarding fun turned out to be a bit of stretch – the 28k was already full, so I had to register for the 50k, the longest race I had ever done. With all that elevation (11,000 feet total), I knew it would be hard and maybe not so fun.

Big Sky’s Lone Peak and Dean Tom DeLuca, post-50k race

I’m sure you’re wondering what this run has to do with the college or being a student at the University of Montana. Well, while I was out there in the sweltering heat, struggling to summit Lone Peak, I started to reflect on the similarities between enduring the Rut and attending university –  both have a lot to do with recruitment, retention, persistence and completion.

I was recruited into something I had no experience with, but gamely signed up for based on a personal recommendation. This might be how many of you ending up choosing UM – you’re not quite sure what you’re getting into, but you hear it will be fun.

Now that you’re here, will you stay? The challenge for retention is that freshman students mostly focus on general education requirements in their first year or two, leaving them to wonder when they’ll get to dive more deeply into the topics they came here to study, e.g. forestry, recreation, conservation, restoration or wildlife biology. Say you suffer a blow in your fledgling science career by getting an F on a chemistry exam – this might be enough to send you packing to a different discipline or just leave campus, but it shouldn’t!  

When I set off from the start line of the Rut, climbing the first 2,000 feet in the dark with a dim headlamp, I followed closely on the heels of about 15 people in front of me. After about 25 minutes, someone yelled, “We’re on the wrong trail!” We all quickly turned around to re-find the main trail. We got back into line 10 minutes behind where we should have been. This was a setback like that F, but not the end of the world. I dug deep, swallowed the frustration and stayed on the course, trying the pass the people who’d gotten ahead of me.

Once you get into your major courses, persisting gets a little easier. However, you have to watch out for the junior-year slump – this is the time when classes get more challenging and you might just get tired of all the hard work. For me, the slump came at mile 18 of the Rut. I finally came to the second aid station, sick from heat and lack of fluids and the elevation (over 9,000 feet). As I sat there, on the verge of throwing up, I considered giving up. Then medics and volunteers brought me food, liquids, and a cold, wet towel. That support, along some words of encouragement passed on from a fellow faculty member (via phone) to “Get my butt up that mountain,” gave me fresh motivation. I soldiered up to the top of Lone Peak, covering a mile and half (and another 1,500 feet of elevation) in what seemed like forever. I had persisted and I was still in the race.

Even on the verge of graduating, obstacles can still crop up. It’s not always an easy coast to the end. As I was descending Lone Peak and trying to make up time, I tripped over a rock while passing some people and almost fell over a 50-foot drop. I caught myself by my fingertips and looked up to see a helping hand reaching for me. I muttered something about “bad luck,” only to hear my helper say: “No, you aren’t hurt – that is good luck!” These were words of wisdom I needed to hear.

With the support of fellow runners and the incredible set of volunteers out on the race course, I was able to complete the 50k and 11,000 feet of vertical in just under nine hours. Now I know that sounds really slow, but it is hard to put in context just how difficult that run really is. Just like with achieving that bachelor’s degree, it is a long, and sometimes tortuous trail, but when you complete it, you’ll feel a great sense of accomplishment. And just like in the Rut, you’re surrounded by support in the college, from your fellow students, staff, and faculty.

And that is where my run stops paralleling your journey here with us. I went back to my day-to-day running routine, running my familiar and more runnable trails. As a graduate, you’ll set off on a whole new set of adventures, equipped with all the tools and capacities you’re getting here.

I hope you all have a wonderful autumn semester and hang in there even when the trail is steep or when you hit a setback. Know that you can do this and that have depth of support from your fellow students and the staff and faculty here in the College!

Maybe let us know if you need an “aid station” – we’re here to support you!

Onward and upward!

Tom DeLuca, Dean

This was perhaps my best race ever, judged by how much I was able to extract from what I brought to the starting line.

It’s September! For me, this means a now 4-year-old tradition of going to Montana to Run the Rut. 

Hanging out in Big Sky, Montana, with Heidi, Susan, Matt, and Pele

It’s a chance to escape to an inspiring and beautiful place for a long weekend, and to race on some amazing terrain that exhausts pretty much all of my skills (such as they are) in mountain running. This is where I ran my first 50K, and every time I’ve come here I’ve learned how to suffer a little bit more, and a little bit more effectively. Each year I also get to see whether I’ve improved in any of the other subsidiary skills of mountain running - climbing, descending, pacing, eating, etc.

This year, instead of the 50K, I decided to do all of the other races: the VK, the 28K, and the 11K, on successive days. Three days before the racing started I managed to come down with a bad cold. Two days before the VK I was completely exhausted after a day spent driving from Colorado to a hotel room in Casper, Wyoming. Had any of the races been on that day I would have had to DNS, since merely getting out of my car to fill it with gas was leaving me with the strong desire to lay down for a nap. Fortunately on the day of the VK I was feeling better, and actually excited about running hard. Running hard with a lot of mucus congestion, to be more precise.

(Apologies if I share too much.)

The VK course was changed at the last minute due to a forecast for lightning in the area, so instead of running up Lone Peak and possibly getting electrocuted, we ran from the base of the mountain to a spot above a talus field in a big bowl below the summit. Not as challenging as the regular course, but quite a bit of steep uphill. I love VKs! There really isn’t much to strategize about; just crank yourself up to as high a pain threshold as you can tolerate and climb, climb, climb. Pay attention to your footwork and balance, since you don’t want to slip even once - those are a precious few centimeters of elevation you don’t want to have to climb twice. Although I didn’t have as much energy as I would have had absent the cold, I did a fantastic job with pain tolerance and footwork, and I’m very proud of my VK race.

The next day was the main event for me this year, the 28K. This was perhaps my best race ever, judged by how much I was able to extract from what I brought to the starting line. I’d run a mountainous 28K at the end of July at the Pikes Peak Ultra in Colorado Springs in essentially 3 hours flat, but this race took me 5 hrs, 49 minutes plus a few seconds to finish. This time difference was entirely due to how steep and technical the course was. Of all the Rut races, the 28K is the jewel: nothing added, nothing left out. It is the natural course one would run if arbitrary distance considerations didn’t matter and you just wanted to do what the terrain at Big Sky suggests. Run up and down headwaters ridge; up and down Lone Peak, and up and down Andesite Mountain.

I think I did perhaps my best performance ever in almost all the areas one needs for a six-hour mountain race. My climbing was off all day, but I was still low-energy from the cold and I think I limited my losses by being efficient and precise. My pacing and nutrition decisions were smart, and I was able to stick to my pre-race plan for perhaps the first time ever. The plan was to avoid flaming out on the climbs, descend as fast as possible, and consume enough calories to avoid bonking before the end of the race. I managed to do all of that.

The best part of my race were the technical descents from headwaters ridge and Lone Peak. Every time I flew past someone on a downhill -- and that happened a lot -- I felt grateful and lucky to have learned so much by following the Rocky Mountain Runners down Green Mountain. Move the feet, move the arms, balance, fall with gravity. Fly downhill! The final descent off Andesite down a snaky mountain bike trail went equally well. Not very technical but steep and twisty. I passed a whale-load of people on that short downhill just before the finish. Breaking out of the trees, going into the pain cave, passing that last one guy I’d been following ten feet behind for the past few switchbacks, grabbing my dog Pele’s leash from Heidi who was waiting along the trail, and sprinting for the finish with Pele alongside me, running as fast as I could possibly go. So happy!

Post-28K debris field, including a can of beer, and Pele!

The next day I was tired, of course. Putting on the shoes and heading out to the 11K was a bit of a challenge. The weather had turned rainy down low and snowy up high, leading the RD to change the 50K course to keep people off the good stuff. Tough for the 50K-ers but I think a very smart decision that probably prevented injuries and hypothermia for a bunch of people.

The 11K is basically a loop of the Andesite Mountain climb in the reverse direction of the 50K course. There are big, gradual, sustained switchbacks up to  the top and then a fun, relatively steep downhill to the finish. I suffered up to the top in the rain, making up for my fatigue and lack of power by being efficient, then had another good downhill to wrap things up. I saw Greg Vollet and Cristofer Clemente leading the 50K on my way down, and crossed paths with RMR Jeff Schuler at the bottom of Andesite, who would go on to finish an impressive 17th in the 50K. As soon as I stopped running the 40-degree temperatures and hard rain drove me inside to avoid hypothermia. I poked my head out briefly to watch a bit of the 50K finishers, but  the weather kept me from spectating the 50K as much I would have liked. I missed RMRs Ryan Lassen, Guy Love, and Andy Gisler who tore things up in the 50K. Congrats guys; I hope you’ll do this race again on the full course. Luckily, I did get to see my brother-in-law Matt finish the 50K very strong. We’ve hung out at the Rut now for three straight years and I hope next year we’ll be able to do it again. Congrats Matt on a season that included both the Bridger Ridge Run and the Rut!

Three Rut races, a cool 28K finisher’s medal made of wood not metal, and a cool shirt