The Speedgoat 50K, although a relatively young race (16 this year!) is one of those legendary ultramarathons. Most ultrarunners have heard of it, and for good reason -- The original Speedgoat himself, Karl Meltzer, is an icon in the ultramarathon world. With nearly 100 finishes at the 100 mile distance, and 38 wins, he is, as his website claims, "the winningest 100 mile runner on earth". The race was sold to UTMB in 2021, but Meltzer has remained the race director.
This is a mountain race, and is further classified as a skyrunning race. If you don't know what that means, here's the Wikipedia definition: "Skyrunning is a sport of mountain running above 2,000 metres (6,600 ft) where the minimum average incline is 6% over the total distance and at least 5% has an incline of 30% or more. The climbing difficulty does not exceed II grade UIAA." Sound wild? It is.
The Speedgoat takes place at the Snowbird Ski Resort in the Little Cottonwood Canyon of the Wasatch Mountain Range, just outside Salt Lake City, Utah. The course utilizes some of the gorgeous singletrack, quite a bit of the rugged cat tracks/twotracks, and some off-trail mayhem. Ready for the breakdown?
Race website: https://speedgoat.utmb.world/races/50k
Location: ★★★★★
Snowbird Ski Resort is a renowed downhill ski destination, but it's also incredible in the summer. Because it is such a destination resort, it has the capacity to support a large race seemlessly. Parking is available in several large main lots. There is plenty of lodging onsite, and airBnBs/hotels are abundant at the base of the mountain (a much more cost-effective option). The Trams/ski lefts did help with getting spectators and crews to the big aid stations. Also, the infrastructure of a ski resort area supported excellent cell service, despite the remote feel.
Organization: ★★★★☆
I was intially a little undecided on participating in a UTMB event in the wake of the 2023 controversies involving race acquisition and squeezing of grassroots organizations. This resulted in boycotts by some of the big names in ultrarunnin. Ultimately, every consumer is responsible for what events they choose to support. I decided to go ahead and register, and would be happy to discuss my thought process behind this. With a big corporation like UTMB behind an event, you're going to get predictable pre-race updates and communication. This is huge when traveling out-of-state for a race as having timely information reduces some of the stress inherent with travel.
The volunteers at the aid stations were everything I had heard of at these bigger events. They were all so eager to help and basically just descended on you the minute you rolled in. Sponges, ice, filling bottles, helping me mix my nutrition, and even helping me get my pack on and off. It's scary racing without a crew, but the volunteers were so attentive that it kept my focus and spirits high during the quick pitstops.
The expo was pretty cool too -- I stopped by a few of the booths on Friday. My favorite was the Native Women Running (https://www.nativewomenrunning.com/). It was great to see some POC/women inclusion, representation and advocacy. Dylan Bowman/Freetrail helped host a panel with Nico Mermoud, Karl Meltzer & Jared Smith discussing the development of the Hoka Speedgoat. After that was a short, direct runner briefing. Finally, there was a "Tip Talk" hosted by Vibram Elite Runner Robyn Lesh. I didn't stay for it because I was really tired and hungry by that point, but I heard good things about it!
Course: ★★★★☆
The couse is what makes this race. It's ridiculously hard, with 11,400 ft of climbing over 32.4 miles. There are some incredible single track trails up at Snowbird and winding through the Wasatch Mountains. However, much of the race utilized the wider cat tracks/two tracks (which did make passing easier), and some of it went straight up off trail or through some wild boulder fields. I'd heard this was an ankle buster, and descending 4 miles down a dry creek bed sure solidified that. In some areas it felt like we were off-trail to intentionally just make things harder. In my ideal world, there would have been more singletrack and none of that off-trail nonsense ;). But, it was exactly as advertised!
The course is incredibly scenic. Every breathless climb rewarded you with a gorgeous view of the basins. I kept looking down the ski cutes imagining how it would feel to be up here in the winter. Summer wildflowers were in full bloom along the ridges. My favorite climb was that going up through a cottonwood stand. It truly felt like we were seeing the best of Utah.
The aid stations were pretty far apart. 9 miles is a LONG time when you gain and lose almost 4,000 ft in that time frame. This was discussed in the athlete guide and briefing, so it wasn't a suprise.
Course marking was on-point. Plenty of confidence markers, and every critical turn was overmarked. You would have had to try to get lost.
Course specifics will be down below in my race report, but here's a nice little course profile from the runner's guide.
Food: ★★★☆☆
Standard ultra-fare, maybe a little less than the typical offerings. Finish line food was suprisingly limited -- some greasy salty pizza, cookies, and fruit. I guess I've been pretty spoiled at the last few events with finish line feast. Still, I can't complain about free food and I was happy to have it.
To summarize: To claim Speegoat as the hardest 50K in the US is no empty aggrandizement, but if you survive it, you;'ll never forget it.
My race:
This was a crewless race for me, which forced me t think critically about what I might want for the day and how to pack it. Drop bags are not allowed, so without crew, I would depend on aid stations and whatever I packed. There were two pieces of mandatory gear: A light jacket, and 1 liter water carrying capacity. Along with this (I actually had 1.4 liters capacity), I made sure to bring my entire race worth of nutrition, and my sun gear (sun sleeves, hat, glasses, and ice bandana). It was a tight fit in my pack, but I crammed it all in!
Race day was an early morning at 6:30 am, but racing on Mountain Time made 6:30 feel like less of a struggle. Because parking was very simple, I was relaxed and comfortable rolling up to the start line on the deck at Snowbird Ski Resort. Ultramarathon start lines are a strange place. Most of the elites are calm and quiet, or bubbly and cheerful as they greet each other. I slotted myself behind the elites, about 3 rows back, at the start line. Karl Meltzer, the Speedgoat himself, gave us a countdown and we blasted off the start line for about a half mile of downhill two-track before the first climb. After that, there was a bit of undulating but overall we climbed up to the first aid station, a water-only stop, at about 4.4 miles in and before the first big bruiser of a climb. That's when the real grinding started. The course climbed and climbed up to Hidden Peak, just under 11,000 ft. The climbing was relentless, but not overly technical, with a grade that still permitted some semblance of a power hike for much of it. As a bonus, it was relatively cool and we were in mostly shaded by the mountain. There were two snowy patches but it really wasn't that technically hard, just slippery. Just before mile 10, we reached the Hidden Peak aid station. This is where the sun started to really come into play, so I got on those arm coolers and my sunglasses. I've found that sunglasses really make a difference for me, even if I have a hat -- I guess having such indirect sun due to clouds in the midwest, I really don't tolerate the bright mountain sun well.
I was really worried at Hidden Peak that I would be feeling the pinch of not having a crew. The volunteers were incredible, though. Two were immediately helping me with my pack, my water, and even mixing up my infinite. They even reminded me to give them my trash/wrappers (a vital part of a crew member's job!).
Descending out of Hidden Peak was a nice downhill cat track (yay! fun!) followed by FOUR MILES of running down a dry creek bed. This was a rough go for everyone, but my inability to read the line of a scree field was really showing. I felt like every couple of steps I'd end up on the blade of my foot or side of my ankle, with hard rocks smacking into the top of my feet. I caugh a toe under one of the bigger rocks and chucked forward, smacking my chin solidly on a rock. Luckily, nothing was hurt and I rolled right up. I was grateful to see the descent end when I then realized the entire distance down was now to be covered again as we climbed to the highest point on the course!
The next four miles of climbing were a grind, just trying to get one foot in front of the other. I met a woman from Bozeman on this section and we chatted about life and training for about a half hour. She was in her very first ultra race and was absolutely crushing. Chatting with her really helped the time go by. However, with about 2 miles to the water only station, I was absolutely out of fluids and feeling the dehydration heavily. Those two miles seemed to take two years. The volunteers at Water Pipe were literal angels. Not only did they fill my bottles, but they were ready to wet down my cooling sleeves and hat as well. Having fresh cold water, I made the newbie mistake of chugging it down. I knew we still had to climb to Mineral Basin in 1.6 miles, but I forgot there was a little descent in there. The sloshy water belly didn't feel great descending.
Mineral Basin came fairly quick, but little did I realize the worst climbing was yet to come. I felt refreshed after two aid stations in quick succession, but we were very exposed to the harsh sun and the day was heating up. Now we were to climb 2,000 ft in less than 2 miles to the top of Mt Baldy. Worse yet was that we were trekking right up moon dust. Any wrong shift of your weight and you'd be sliding backwards. Here I fell into chatting with a local guy, and together we kept our mindsets positive. I'm still sad I didn't get to find him at the finish. After a breathless summit up to the highest point of the course, we took a pretty non-technical descent down to the tunnel and Tunnel Aid station. These nontechnical descents are my jam. My quads are strong from crossfit and weightlifting, and I can send these descents without paying too much of a price. I started making up some places in the womens field sending it down this descent. Then it was back up yet again, the hardest, most technical climb of the day, back up to Hidden Peak. Somewhere along this ridge a group of guys were cheering for their buddy, who I was running with at the time. They offered him a beer and I asked for a swig. I've never had beer during a running race, but I was so sick of the taste of grape infinite at that point. A warm sip of Modelo felt like heaven. It wasn't much but just having the taste of something, anything different, made me feel alive again. The ridge was rocky and required focus, and the climbing had some big moves for short girlies. I continued to slowly work my way up in the womens field on this last big climb, and I felt good knowing that after Hidden Peak we only had a few smaller climbs and a whole lotta descents.
Hidden Peak was where I knew I needed to move. I got my poles up in my quiver, refilled my bottles with water only (no calories!) and started cruising. Directly down from Hidden Peak was the snow. I slipped and decided that instead of standing back up, I'd just glissade. The cold snow felt great on my hamstrings and hands as I shoved myself down the snowpack. The next mile of descending was really rocky but I was able to read the trail and stay relaxed. Then, BAM, another climb. I tried to pull my poles out but they were cinched too tighly in my quiver and I couldn't get them out without taking off the entire pack. I put my hands on my knees and got to work. A one point, I was actually crawling, using my hands to pull my up and over some of the bigger steps. Then we were going back down. The scree was loose, but I could see the next girl ahead of me about two minutes up. I also knew that 3 girls I had passed right around Hidden Peak were on my tail. I knew none of us were top ten, but I'm a competitor. Slowly, surely, I started to gain on the woman ahead of me. As I watched her descend, I knew I had the advantage on this terrain. I pushed a little harder. There was another climb and she held me off. Then were were going back down. I surged just a bit. I was within 20 ft of her and was starting to look for a passing line. That's when I made a mistake. I was looking too far down the trail and strayed onto some loose scree. I didn't even realize I was falling until I was on the ground and everything was so bright. I heard one of the guys who had been behind me asking if I was ok. I couldn't speak, I just lay on the ground in the fetal position. He repeated himself as he came up closer. I squeaked out an affirmative. After another 30 seconds and a quick self assessment, I rolled back onto my feet. I knew I wasn't catching the girl ahead of me, but with 3 miles to go, I could still do this. I stood up with blood streaming from both knees and hands, feeling sharp pain under the right kneecap where a rock had jutted itself. Conservatively, I started trotting back down the descent. One more climb, short but still painful, followed by 2 more miles of descending stood between me and the finish. My breath was ragged at this point and I felt like I just couldn't get on top of it. Still, I kept moving. And soon, I could hear the cheers of the finish line.
I finished my day in 8:08, which was a touch slower than I was targeting but a result I'm still proud of. I was 17th in the women's field, utterly honored and humbled to have run in the company of such strong mountain runners. As I watched them climb, I realized how much I have to learn about this terrain and I'm so grateful I got to experience this.
There was a finish line party with live music and I really wanted to stay and talk to the people who I met during the race. Unfortunately, I began to feel so sick I had to get back into a horizontal position as quickly as possible. To those who I didn't fist bump at the finish line: I love you. Thank you for teaching me. Thank you for being a part of my life for that snippet of it.
And to those of you still reading, thank you!
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